


Greatest Love of All

by teacass (Fushigi)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Aromantic Balthazar, Bartender Castiel (Supernatural), Cursed Castiel, Dean/Cas Tropefest 2017, Fairy Tale Curses, Fairy Tale Elements, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, M/M, Misunderstandings, New York City, Penelope AU, Romantic Comedy, Romantic Fluff, Roommates, Sharing a Bed, Slow Build, Slow Burn, casturbation, deancastropefest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-15
Updated: 2017-09-15
Packaged: 2018-12-30 02:51:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 43,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12099114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fushigi/pseuds/teacass
Summary: Castiel Novak was born with a pig snout. The only way to break the curse is to find someone of his own kind that will love and accept him the way he is — but despite his parents’ best efforts, he’s still alone. When he finally decides to leave home, he knows it can either bring him happiness or more heartbreak — but he’s ready to risk everything if it means he gets to be free, even for a little while.--A Dean/Cas Penelope AU featuring magic curses, New York, bunnies, and love.





	1. PROLOGUE

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Dean/Cas Tropefest 2017](http://deancastropefest.tumblr.com/), a.k.a. The Best Challenge There Is. (Okay, I love all challenges, but this is Tropefest! Who doesn't love tropes?)
> 
> Inspired by the 2006 movie, _Penelope_. I took the main idea and then went and mixed things up, so that now... Dean Winchester _is_ Reese Witherspoon. Because why not!
> 
> Biggest thank you to my amazing, amazing artist, Diminuel, who drew several gorgeous pieces of art for this story. Guys, I am so in love with all of them. Go, check them out [here](http://diminuel.tumblr.com/post/165364168730/artwork-for-the-greatest-love-of-all-by-teacass) and give them lots and lots of love!
> 
> Finally, thank you to Lauren, my tireless beta and biggest supporter, and to the entire Tropefest Chat for the best butter puns. Also, to the greatest mods we could ever dream of, Jojo and muse. You rock, guys. Keep being awesome ♥

## prologue

“Castiel, honey, there’s a nice gentleman here, wanting to talk to you.”

Castiel puts down his book and looks up at his mother. “Talk to me about what?”

“Just talk,” Rachel Novak says. “Get to know you a bit.”

“Why would he want to get to know me?” Castiel murmurs and turns back to his book. “Who is he?”

“I told you, he’s a young gentleman, he’s nice—”

“How do you know he’s nice? Do _you_ know him?” 

“I know his family,” Rachel says. “And he’s very polite and kind.”

Of course he is. Mother thinks everyone who comes from a wealthy family is polite and nice and handsome — and, for some reason, tall — even if they’re not. As if a person’s height had anything to do with their manners. Mother really likes tall, handsome, well-mannered gentlemen. She’d probably want to marry this one herself — if she hadn’t been married for the last twenty-seven years and if said gentleman wasn’t half her age.

“Don’t start with that again, Castiel,” his mother complains, even though Castiel didn’t even say a word. “All I ask for is one conversation. Just try to talk to him _once_ , and who knows? Maybe you’ll like each other!”

“Is he blind?” Castiel asks.

“What? No, of course not!” Rachel sounds scandalised, and Castiel wants to ask whether there’s something wrong with being blind and why she always reacts like that to anyone who’s less than _ordinary_ — but this is not the time.

“He’s not going to like me, then,” he says.

“For heaven’s sake, Castiel! Why are you always so negative?” his mother laments. “Just go and see him. I won’t ask twice.”

Castiel rolls his eyes when she leaves the room, but finally sets down the book and makes his way to a little room adjoining his bedroom. There’s a huge window there, but it doesn’t show him the countryside around his house, only the library on the other side of the wall. Castiel stalks closer and plops down on the chair right in front of the window, looking straight at the person standing across from it.

The young man is indeed tall, well-built, and attractive in the most conventional way — eyes blue, hair blond, jawline strong. He’s pacing around the library, staring at all the books around him but there’s no real interest in his piercing eyes.

“Hello,” Castiel says.

The man jolts and turns towards him. Their eyes meet, but he doesn’t realise it — the window on the other side looks just like an ordinary mirror.

“Hello? Castiel?” he asks, sounding uncertain.

“Yes, it’s me,” Castiel intones. “I apologise, my mother didn’t mention your name.”

“It’s Bartholomew,” the man says and bows. It looks ridiculous, but Castiel doesn’t comment on it. 

“Nice to meet you, Bartholomew,” he says instead. Of course he’s named like that. Castiel only seems to be meeting people with strange, old-fashioned names — Bartholomew, Zachariah, Hael, Ephraim, Akobel, Asariel. He’s never met a Tom in this room, nor a John, or Sally, or Harry. Mother hates the name ‘Harry’.

“I want to answer with the same sentiment,” Bartholomew says, “but I don’t think I can. Where are you? I can’t see you.”

“Can you hear me?” Castiel asks.

“Yes.”

“That’s enough for now, then. I promise we’ll meet properly when it’s time for that.”

“Aww, are you shy?” Bartholomew asks and smiles condescendingly. “You don’t have to be, I don’t bite.”

Castiel grits his teeth. “What if _I_ do?”

Bartholomew lets out an artificial laugh. “That’s funny. You’re funny. Are you as pretty as you’re funny?”

“I don’t know. That’s not for me to judge,” Castiel mutters.

“Oh,” Bartholomew sighs. “And he’s humble, too. How perfect. I’m sure you’re perfect, dear Castiel. I’m sure we can be… very happy. My family believes so, and so does yours, or at least that’s what I’ve heard from your beautiful mother.”

“And what if I’m not?” Castiel asks.

“What if you’re not _what_ , my dear?”

Castiel stops himself from banging his head against the window at the last possible moment. “What if I’m not perfect?”

Bartholomew laughs again. “Don’t you worry, Castiel. It doesn’t matter what you look like, alright? I’m certain we’ll be _perfect_ together.” He grins in the general direction of the mirror. “And anyway, I can be handsome for both of us.”

Castiel snorts a laugh. What an obnoxious, bigheaded gentleman, indeed.

He stands up as Bartholomew continues to wax poetic about himself. Oh, he attended Harvard. He loves long walks and nature, he supports charities, he believes in equality and world peace. Castiel has heard it a thousand times before, but it has never sounded as fake as it does right now.

He knows his mother is watching, but he doesn’t care. He wants to get this farce over with and go back to reading, so he walks over to the door that’s hidden between the shelves full of books, pushes it, and steps into the library.

Bartholomew pauses in the middle of the sentence and turns at the sound of Castiel’s footsteps.

“Hello,” Castiel says casually. “I got bored behind the window.”

Bartholomew’s eyes widen comically when he sees Castiel’s face. He pales, stumbles back, and points at him.

“What— what is _this_?!” he shrieks.

Castiel tilts his head. “Who, me? Don’t you think I’m perfect anymore?” he asks and takes one tiny step.

Bartholomew screams and runs away. Castiel smiles to himself and turns back, the shouts of both his mother and his would-be-fiancé quieting down as soon as he closes the door to his room.


	2. CHAPTER 1

## chapter one

The door slams in Castiel’s face, his mother’s angry footsteps leaving him all alone in his room. Castiel tries turning the doorknob, but soon realises he’s been locked away.

It’s not the first time. It probably won’t be the last.

Castiel sighs irritably and stalks away from the door. There are many things he could do right now to pass the time — in his life, he has learned to deal with his mother’s fussy moods and taken up a lot of hobbies. He reads a lot, of course; he doodles, tiny ink drawings covering most of his books and loose scraps of paper; he keeps a variety of plants and tends to them as carefully as one would to a beloved pet; he crochets; he plays the harp; he plays chess; he does yoga. There aren’t a lot of indoor hobbies he hasn’t tried his hand at, but there are only a few of those that can really catch his attention.

Right now, even his favourite pastimes don’t look appealing enough. For the first time in a long while, he wishes his parents would stop behaving like this entire situation was the end of the world. It’s not — at least not for Castiel. He has learned to live with it, he’s had twenty-six years to do so.

He wonders if he is ever going to be able to break free. Not from the curse — he stopped hoping for that a long time ago, after the fifteenth person in a row fled upon seeing his face — but from his parents’ influence.

Castiel plops down into the sill in front of the huge window on the other side of the room and looks out into the garden below.

It’s not like he’s a prisoner here, in his own house. Well, alright, he kind of is, _right now_ , but he understands his mother. He knows she only wants what’s best for him, and right now, trying to find a person that could fall in love with him despite the curse is the best way to do so. If he asked, he could go out and enjoy the weather in the garden — probably. Maybe not at this very moment, since his doors are definitely locked, but generally, he could. He’s _allowed_.

He’s not allowed to do most of the things normal people his age do nowadays, but he rarely thinks about it.

After all, he isn’t entirely normal.

The sun is falling through the window in a way that makes the glass act like a mirror, and Castiel can see his own face staring back at him. He sees dark hair and bright eyes, he sees the pale face, used to the dimness of his room, the wide mouth and, of course, just above the bow of his lips, his nose — huge and pink and ugly.

Castiel’s hand involuntarily sneaks up, fingers brushing the unappealing wrinkles that start on the bridge of his nose and fold down, lower and lower, until they turn into the wide and rounded pig snout. It’s mostly smooth, except for the wrinkles above it, but it does seem to take up half of Castiel’s face, making it impossible to notice _anything_ apart from its ugliness.

According to the family legend, the Novak’s family was cursed a long, long time ago by a witch that had been refused shelter and food for her child. From that time, every son in the family that was also a firstborn was born with a pig’s nose, a curse that could only be broken when a person of their own kind — a nobleman or a noblewoman — fell in love with the boy despite his appearance.

For generations, girls were usually the oldest of the children, which made the boys, their brothers, safe from the old witch’s curse. Until, at last, Castiel’s parents conceived him — and only him.

His father always used to tell Castiel his mother wouldn’t stop crying for a whole week after he was born with the snout. It’s not exactly a thing a young boy likes to hear before he goes to bed every night, but Castiel has learned to live with it.

The thing is — Castiel doesn’t believe in curses. Okay, that’s not the best way to phrase it, since he does believe in his own curse, mostly because he can see his nose in the mirror every time he brushes his teeth — but he doesn’t believe it can be broken. He has read enough of books and seen enough of movies to know that real love doesn’t work like it does in fairytales. There’s very, _very_ little chance he’ll fall in love with any of the rich people his parents keep forcing him to meet. They can’t love him when they only get to know a part of him, the part that isn't cursed, and they definitely can’t love him when they actually see him from the very beginning. The long list of his fiancés-to-be fleeing with yells of terror can only confirm that.

Which is why, nowadays, Castiel doesn’t hesitate before showing his true appearance as soon as the potential suitor shows up in the library. Castiel has a lot of interesting things to do in his slow, lonely life, so it would be a waste of long hours trying to get to know a person that would end up running away anyway.

Sometimes, he doesn’t even have it in himself to blame his parents for being so dramatic over this whole curse thing. They probably only have his best interests in mind.

***

Two more weeks pass before Castiel’s mother informs him of another guest.

“Mom,” Castiel says and somehow manages to make his voice sound calm. “Mom, please, _no_.”

Rachel scowls down at him as she slides a bowl full of apple pieces towards him. He’s just finished the pancakes their cook, Naomi, prepared for breakfast, but his mother has been trying to feed him more healthy food since she discovered a new diet. 

“Eat, Castiel,” she says. “They’re fresh out of our orchard.”

“Thank you,” Castiel replies. He picks up a piece and chews on it for a while, but keeps glaring at his mother. “Who are they?”

“Oh, you’re going to _love_ him,” his mother chirps. “So polite, so handsome and tall.”

Castiel narrows his eyes at her. “Why are they always tall? Maybe you should find me someone shorter. Maybe they wouldn’t be able to actually see my face.”

“Castiel,” his mother admonishes.

“You _know_ what’s going to happen, don’t you,” Castiel says with a shrug.

His mother only smiles. “Not this time, my dear.”

***

He realises what she meant the next day, as he tries to push the doors to the library open and discovers they won’t budge.

His new guest, Balthazar, is indeed tall and handsome, and right now he’s standing right in front of the one-way mirror, one perfect eyebrow raised as he waits for Castiel to appear in the room. They’ve only been talking for less than five minutes, and even though Castiel can admit Balthazar seems much more pleasant than Bartholomew, he still doesn’t want to deceive him and would rather end this farce before it gets too boring. 

“Castiel?” Balthazar asks, his head tilting to one side as he looks around the library. “Either I’ve gone blind in the last couple of seconds, or you’re still not here. Or maybe it’s magic? Are you a wizard? Are you invisible?”

Castiel scoffs, leaning on the locked door. “I’ve changed my mind,” he says, resigned. “Maybe it’s better if I keep this a secret for a bit longer.”

Balthazar smiles in the general direction of his voice, where the doors are hidden in between the bookshelves. “The rumours have been right, then.”

“What rumours?” Castiel asks, his heart in his throat. 

“People say you’re secretive,” Balthazar hums. “Interesting and secretive.”

“I’m not sure whether I should consider that a compliment,” Castiel says slowly.

“Oh, by all means. It’s a rare gift, nowadays. We all know everything about each other, we stalk each other on social media. There are absolutely no secrets between us. Where’s the fun in that?”

“Stalk each other?” Castiel repeats, appalled.

Balthazar laughs, and the sound is quite pleasant, actually making Castiel smile instead of wincing with disgust. “I’m guessing you’re not a Facebook person, are you, dear Castiel?”

Bartholomew called him ‘dear’ as well, but the way Balthazar says it doesn't make Castiel’s skin crawl the way it did two weeks ago. For some reason, he finds himself relaxing against the locked door to the library. 

“I don’t think I’m familiar with it, no,” Castiel says. “It doesn’t sound pleasant, though.”

“It’s not, not really,” Balthazar says with a wave of his tanned hand. “That’s why some mystery is always a good idea.”

“Well,” Castiel murmurs, but doesn’t know what he wants to say after that. It is obvious that Balthazar, as a member of a noble family similar to Castiel’s, has heard of the Novak curse, even though there’s no possibility he knows exactly what the curse entails. Every person that saw Castiel’s face and tried to run away, including Bartholomew, has been caught by the Novak’s butler and _convinced_ not to speak of it to anyone. All they know is that Castiel’s parents are desperate to find him a husband or a wife that could share his wealth and position in the world of other noble families.

It’s been quiet for a long time in the rooms between them, Castiel realises, but Balthazar doesn’t seem to mind. He’s walking along the bookshelves, a look of honest interest on his face as he looks at the book spines in front of him. Castiel lets out a quiet sigh and comes back to the armchair by the one-sided mirror, leaning his head on his hand and watching Balthazar with a mix of nervousness and curiosity.

When Balthazar leaves the Novak’s mansion an hour later, he isn’t screaming and Castiel is still safely locked away in his room. It’s been years since Rachel Novak looked so happy and hopeful.

***

“What do you mean, _you’ve never seen ‘Friends’_?”

Castiel scowls and is grateful Balthazar can’t see him through the mirror because he would probably comment on his grumpiness again. For someone that can’t see Castiel’s face, Balthazar seems to be particularly gifted in reading Castiel’s emotions by the sound of Castiel’s voice and the way he sometimes _doesn’t speak_.

“You spend days holed up in your room, and you’ve never seen one episode of ‘Friends’,” Balthazar repeats disbelievingly.

“I have a lot of hobbies,” Castiel says with pride. “Watching mindless television is not one of them.”

“And yet you’ve seen every adaptation of ‘The Phantom of The Opera’ there is, even the ones in Chinese.”

“That is a classic,” Castiel says. “Obviously I’ve seen them.”

“You’re such a bloody aristocrat, Castiel,” Balthazar sighs. “Maybe it’s good you rarely leave this place. You’d get lost in the real world.”

“That’s not true,” Castiel protests, but it’s weak. “I know everything there is to know about life.”

“And yet — you still have no idea about Ross and Rachel’s infamous adventures,” Balthazar chuckles.

Castiel frowns. “Are they part of a noble family somewhere around here?” 

“Yup,” Balthazar says, voice serious. “They live in Central Perk.”

“I don’t think you’ve pronounced that correctly,” Castiel says smugly. “I know about Central _Park_ , Balthazar. New York isn’t that strange to me, even if I have never been there.”

For some reason, Balthazar snorts inelegantly and hides his face in his hands for a moment. Castiel watches him through the glass with narrowed eyes, but doesn’t comment. If it’s yet another jab in relation to his lack of modern-life knowledge, he doesn’t want to know anyway. 

They’ve been doing this for about a week now — ‘this’ meaning Balthazar visiting Castiel and not running away. It may be because Castiel still hasn’t shown him his face, but this time, Castiel wants to believe it’s not the only reason. He was surprised at first, but right now he can admit he quite enjoys spending time with Balthazar, even if all they do is talk through the one-sided mirror, play chess (Castiel instructing Balthazar about his moves), and mock each other.

Or maybe that is exactly the reason why Castiel enjoys spending time with him.

Balthazar is the first person that isn’t trying to be nice to him just so Castiel likes him. He doesn’t seem to pretend to be a gentleman — of course, he is polite in the same way Castiel is, just because they both were taught to behave that way, but he can also be mean sometimes, especially when he taunts Castiel. Surprisingly, Castiel doesn’t mind it one bit. It’s refreshing to finally meet someone like this.

After a moment, Balthazar stops laughing enough to be able to lift his head and propose a new game of chess. Castiel agrees, but for some reason, the conversation about pop culture and New York City stays in his mind for the rest of Balthazar’s visit.

***

For the first time in years, Rachel doesn’t scream or start crying when Castiel decides to go out of his room and show himself.

For the first time in a very, very long time — it’s hard to remember exactly how long it has been since it happened last — the person standing in the library doesn’t react badly when they see Castiel’s face.

To be honest, Balthazar doesn’t react in any way.

Castiel has been trying to convince himself he isn’t nervous the entire morning. After all, he’s been through this so many times, and it’s not like he actually believes someone out there will be able to love and accept him exactly the way he is. And yet, somehow, his hands tremble when he reaches for the doorknob and turns it, his knees weak when he walks out into the library, and he has trouble breathing when Balthazar’s sharp gaze turns to him.

Castiel can’t lie to himself anymore. He’s nervous — he has probably never been more nervous in his life before.

He wonders if this is how it is supposed to feel. Maybe Balthazar _is_ the one? Castiel knows he likes him, even if he isn’t perfect. He can be crass, he’s definitely too sarcastic for his own good, and he tends to brag a little. It’s nothing compared to all the other suitors Castiel has met before, though — so maybe… this is it?

Castiel has never been in love before, but he’s read about it. He knows about butterflies in the stomach, about shaky limbs, long gazes, daydreaming. He has never dreamt about Balthazar and they don’t exactly stare at each other longingly, given the fact that this is the first time Balthazar can actually _see him_. 

And yet, all the other symptoms seem to be there.

Somehow, over the course of two weeks that they have known each other, Castiel started to like Balthazar. Now, he wants to be accepted.

Balthazar is still looking at him — just _looking_ , his expression carefully blank, quiet for the first time in days — and Castiel thinks he’s dying.

“Well?” he says finally and is shocked to hear his own voice has become so raspy. 

Balthazar makes a face and tilts his head. 

“Well,” he says slowly.

Castiel curls his hands into fists by his sides. “Say something.”

Balthazar’s eyes move across Castiel’s face. It’s hard to stay motionless and let himself be examined like that, but he manages.

“That’s it?” Balthazar says finally. “Just the nose?”

Castiel blinks. “What do you mean?”

“I mean you look perfectly human,” Balthazar says with a frown. “With the tiny exception of that nose.”

Castiel can’t help but raise his hand and cover the snout with shaky fingers. “That’s it,” he says quietly.

“Okay…” Balthazar sounds hesitant. “Are you sure? Is there a tail, maybe? Piggy ears? Very hairy back?”

Castiel’s eyes widen. “What? No! What are you talking about?”

Balthazar makes a face again. He looks a little disappointed. 

“When I heard rumours about the horrible curse, I was sure it would be more dramatic,” he explains. “But you look normal. Perfectly ordinary.”

“Ordinary?” Castiel baulks. He lets his hand fall down again. “Can you see my face?”

“Yeah,” Balthazar says. “It’s a very handsome face, Castiel.”

Castiel turns on his heel, away from Balthazar’s curious gaze. “Stop,” he says through gritted teeth. “Stop mocking me.”

“I’m not,” Balthazar says. “Look, apart from the nose, which, I admit, is just a teensy bit bigger than any other human’s, you look perfectly fine. Normal hair, normal face, normal mouth, normal eyes.”

“I’m not normal,” Castiel barks.

“Okay, I lied,” Balthazar says. Castiel thinks he can hear laughter in his voice and he lets out an angry sigh. “Your eyes aren’t normal, they’re actually kind of otherworldly. Never seen eyes this blue before, just so you know.”

Castiel feels his eyes getting wet and he blinks, glad he’s turned away from Balthazar. “Go away,” he says. “I want to be alone now.”

Balthazar is quiet for a moment, and Castiel is almost sure he’s going to leave, but then he hears a loud, exasperated sigh. 

“Did you expect me to scream? Maybe throw something at you and run away? Is that what you wanted me to do? Because I can still do that. You’re being particularly dense right now, and I don’t like spending my time with dense people. You should know that by now.”

Castiel sneaks a glance at him over his shoulder. Balthazar immediately catches his eye and raises his eyebrows at him. 

“See? I’m still here. You’re not _that_ scary.”

Castiel takes a few more seconds to just breathe, and then he slowly turns back to Balthazar again, eyes staring straight into his.

“You don’t think I look like a monster?” he asks, voice much stronger than how he feels inside.

“No,” Balthazar says. “You look like a hot piece of ass with a bad nose job.”

Castiel glares at him, taking a few frantic steps back. Balthazar holds his hands up.

“Whoa, okay! I get it. You don’t like being called attractive,” he says with a sly glance. “Doesn’t mean you’re not.”

“I’m leaving,” Castiel says. Then he sends Balthazar a deadly look. “Or, actually, you should be.”

“Okay, then, you’re not handsome. You’re ordinary. Bland, even. Nothing special. Does that sound better?”

Castiel blinks. Balthazar rolls his eyes.

“That’s some seriously low self-confidence, my dear. We should work on that… but maybe not today.”

It only takes Castiel a few seconds to realise what Balthazar means by that.

“You… you expect to see me again?” he croaks.

Balthazar lifts an eyebrow at him. “Yes? I thought we were supposed to, I don’t know, get married or something like that.”

It’s too much. It’s not even romantic — the way Balthazar says it feels too nonchalant, too theatrical to be considered an actual act of affection — but Castiel’s knees still buckle beneath him and he has to stumble towards the couch in the middle of the library and sit down.

“Whoa, there.” Balthazar walks up towards him and puts a warm hand on Castiel’s shoulder. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” Castiel says, a bit weakly. He clears his throat. “Yes, I’m fine.”

“You look a little pale.”

“You did just propose to me, so I can’t be the only one to blame.”

“I didn’t, not really,” Balthazar says with a snort of laughter.

“It counts, in this situation,” Castiel says.

Balthazar looks thoughtful for a moment. Then, he sits down on the couch beside Castiel with a smirk. 

“So, is this your way of saying yes? Fainting?”

“I didn’t _faint_ ,” Castiel snaps.

Balthazar laughs. “You almost did.”

“I’m taking it back,” Castiel murmurs.

“You can’t take it back now.”

“You’re infuriating.”

“And yet you still like me.”

Castiel looks down at his stomach. He doesn’t feel nervous anymore, but apart from surprise at Balthazar’s acceptance and the sudden turn of events, he’s not sure he’s feeling anything else right now. 

But maybe this is how it’s supposed to feel. 

“I want to see your mother’s face when you tell her the news,” Balthazar says with a wicked grin, and all Castiel can do is roll his eyes at him.

Apparently, he’s getting married.


	3. CHAPTER 2

## chapter two

The news spreads shockingly fast.

Castiel’s parents, of course, are euphoric — especially his mother. Castiel and Balthazar go out of the library and down to the kitchen, where both his parents, his cook, his butler, and his maid are waiting impatiently. There’s a small TV on the counter and, even though it’s turned off, Castiel knows they’ve been watching the entire scene unfold. Somehow, he doesn’t mind that much. They still share the news with them, and Castiel’s mother cries and hugs them both. His father pats him on the arm and flees the kitchen as soon as Rachel starts to discuss the wedding with the cook.

The next week passes in a blur of trying to avoid his mother, writing invitations for an engagement party they’re supposed to host next Saturday, and pretending to listen to his mother as she chatters about how absolutely happy she is. Castiel doesn’t see Balthazar at all, but they talk on a phone once and agree to meet on the Friday before the party.

Castiel spends a lot of time thinking, too.

Considering he’s about to present his fiancé to his entire family, and then get _married_ in less than a month, this is probably what he should be thinking about. Instead, his thoughts keep running towards the city Balthazar mentioned so many times during all of their talks. Castiel knows a lot about New York City, even if he’s never been there. He’s lived in Greenwich, Connecticut for his entire life, the neighbourhood full of huge victorian houses so similar to his own. The city has always been just an hour away from where he is, but it has never seemed so close to him before.

He wonders how it would be to go out into the streets and go unnoticed among the masses of people bustling through the city. Here, Castiel rarely goes farther than a mile or two from his house because the possibility of being recognised, even if he’s wearing a coat or a scarf that hides his face, is quite big. Is it possible he could be completely anonymous in New York? Could he visit Central Park, see the Statue of Liberty, Times Square, Broadway? Balthazar seems to like the city very much — maybe, once they’re married, they could…

Castiel’s train of thoughts stops when he realises he’s completely forgotten about the true reason for even considering marriage in the first place. He didn't used to believe in the possibility of finding someone that could break his curse, but it happened. Why, then, does the thought of marrying Balthazar and getting rid of the nose he was born with not seem plausible?

Maybe he doesn’t know what it means to be in love yet, but he’s sure he can learn it, along with Balthazar. And then, together, they can visit New York.

***

When Balthazar enters Castiel’s room on Friday afternoon, he’s holding a single yellow tulip in his hand and wearing a fond smile on his lips. Castiel stands up to greet him, but it feels awkward with his mother hovering behind Balthazar.

“ _Mom_ ,” Castiel says.

She stares at him with huge eyes, then actually _giggles_.

“Ah, right! I’m going to leave the two of you alone now,” she says and sends a wink towards Balthazar. It’s awkward, but Balthazar doesn’t seem to notice, smiling politely instead. “Don’t be too long, though, there’s still a lot to prepare before tomorrow’s party!”

With one last meaningful smile, she closes the doors and disappears.

“I’m sorry,” Castiel says with a sigh. “She’s just… happy, I guess.”

Balthazar smirks at him. “Someone has to be.”

Castiel wants to say he is, too, obviously, but he only manages to open his mouth and close it again, suddenly unable to say anything. 

“Castiel,” Balthazar says. “I think we need to talk.”

Dread clutches at Castiel’s insides. He looks up at Balthazar, eyes wide, and he hurries to cover his nose with both his hands. They’ve seen each other face to face a few times now, but maybe Balthazar has decided it’s too much for him, after all? Maybe he can’t stand looking at Castiel’s face, maybe he wants to call everything off…

“You’re thinking too much,” Balthazar says with a snort. 

He walks closer, casting curious glances around Castiel’s room. It’s round and spacious, cluttered with bookshelves, plants, and some of the most unusual things one could find in a bedroom. Balthazar’s eyes stay for a while on the rope swing hanging from the ceiling near the window, but then he just shakes his head with a quiet laugh and looks back at Castiel.

“Here, for you,” he says and hands Castiel the tulip. 

“Oh.” Castiel’s face feels hot, just like when people stare at him for too long in public, but the feeling is much more pleasant this time. He accepts the single flower and looks curiously at Balthazar. “You don’t have to woo me anymore, Balthazar. We’re getting married in twenty four days.”

Balthazar lifts an eyebrow, a gesture Castiel has come to associate solely with Balthazar and his cheekiness. 

“Alright. Give it back then.”

Castiel hides the flower behind his back. “No. It’s mine now.”

“This is the last time I get you a flower. You’re nearly impossible to please, I should just give up.”

“Considering I’m nearly twenty-six and I have never been intimate with anyone before, I should assume it wouldn’t be too difficult to please me,” Castiel says quickly. His tone stays flat, bored even, but he can feel a daring smile pulling at his lips while his heart beats frantically against his chest.

Balthazar stares at him for a moment, then throws his head back and bursts out laughing. Castiel feels a satisfying heat on his cheeks and doesn’t look away when Balthazar peers back at him, still chuckling to himself.

“You just keep surprising me. This may actually turn out pretty fun.”

Castiel frowns. “You didn’t think so before?”

“Well.” Balthazar shrugs, making a face. “You know how it is, arranged marriage and all.”

“We’ve arranged it ourselves, though,” Castiel says. “No one’s forcing us.”

Balthazar bites down on his lip, sending Castiel a thoughtful look. “Hmm. If you say so.”

He walks past Castiel, towards the swing. Castiel places the flower on the desk and follows him hurriedly. 

“Balthazar,” he calls. Balthazar, already getting comfortable on the swing and pushing off with his feet, looks at him with a smirk.

“Yes, honey?”

Castiel winces. “Uhm,” he hesitates.

Balthazar chuckles. “Yes, thought so. We’re not there yet, are we?”

“Yet,” Castiel repeats. “I’m sure we can get there one day, though.”

He knows he sounds desperate, but doesn’t want to consider real reasons for that. Instead, he sits down on the bed and watches as Balthazar sways lazily on the swing.

“Tell me, Castiel,” Balthazar starts after a moment of silence. “What do you think is going to happen after we get married?”

Castiel frowns. “We’ll hold a wedding reception.”

Balthazar laughs. “After that. And _after_ the wedding night, too,” he says sneakily.

Castiel’s face heats up, and he looks away. “I wasn’t going to mention it.”

“Of course,” Balthazar muses. “Well? Are we going to live happily ever after? Have a couple of children? Grow old?”

Castiel glares at him. “I don’t know, Balthazar. This is new for me as well.”

“What do you _want_ to do, then?” 

Castiel chews down on his lips for a second, then looks through the window. “I was thinking we could visit New York.”

Balthazar hums. “And you need to get married to do so?” When Castiel sends him a confused look, Balthazar shrugs and stops the swing. He stands up and walks over to sit on the bed beside Castiel. “Castiel, do you honestly think you need to be married to be able to travel to New York — or anywhere else, while we’re on that matter?”

Castiel makes a face. “Of course not. I just thought…”

“I hope you realise that we don’t have to get married for you to get out of this house.”

Castiel wants to agree with him so bad. It would be easy to stand up to his parents, pack a suitcase, and leave. He’s almost twenty-six and he’s quite certain he would manage to survive on his own. 

And yet, he knows the reason why his parents behave the way they do. He knows it, and he understands it.

“I do have to get married,” he says, quiet but forceful. “I have to be with a person of my own kind that loves me exactly how I am and is able to break the curse. I can’t go to New York looking like this,” he says bitterly and gestures to his face.

There’s a moment of silence, Balthazar staring at him, his pale blue eyes full of something akin to worry. He schools his features then and, looking straight into Castiel’s eyes, he says, “I don’t love you, Castiel.”

It’s so quiet in the room, Castiel would be able to hear a yellow petal falling softly to the floor. He stares at Balthazar, opens his mouth to respond, then closes it. He should feel something, he thinks, _anything_ , but instead, he’s just frustrated Balthazar doesn’t understand him.

“I know,” he says. It’s quiet, but he doesn’t sound sad or heartbroken — because he isn’t. He supposes he can’t be heartbroken over someone he isn’t in love with, and he knows that now. “I don’t, either, yet. But it doesn’t matter — maybe it will happen with time.”

Balthazar shakes his head, slowly.

“You don’t know it,” Castiel says. “Maybe it will. Or maybe — maybe it doesn't have to. You accept me the way I am, maybe it will be enough to break the curse—”

“Castiel,” Balthazar says loudly. “Do you really believe this bullshit about the curse?” 

He sounds harsh, all of a sudden, and Castiel glares at him. “I have to, Balthazar. It’s the only way.”

“Maybe,” Balthazar hesitates for a moment, but then presses on, “maybe you’re supposed to just look like this. Maybe this is it—”

Castiel stands up so quickly, his head feels dizzy for a second. He dismisses it, though, Balthazar’s words cutting deep into him. 

“No,” he growls. “It’s not true.”

“You look fine,” Balthazar sighs. “Alright? There’s nothing wrong with you. You’ve let your parents stuff your silly little head with this bollocks about—”

“Stop,” Castiel snaps. “Don’t.”

“I’m just saying—”

“What are you saying, Balthazar?” Castiel turns on his heel to face him again. “Have you changed your mind? If yes, then at least give me the courtesy of breaking it off like a decent person and don’t try to convince me I’m delusional!”

Balthazar stands up. “That is not what I’m trying to do.”

“Then what?” Castiel snaps. “If you don’t believe you can help me, then why did you even agree to marry me?”

“I didn’t realise you needed love for that,” Balthazar says slowly. “I thought you just needed someone to agree to marry you, someone from a wealthy family. I wanted to help you, Castiel, but I can’t. I can’t love you.”

Castiel knows his voice is near breaking when he asks, “Why?”

Balthazar looks at him, lets out a huge sigh, and suddenly he’s coming closer, putting both hands on Castiel’s shoulders and looking at him sadly.

“It’s not because of you,” he says, voice quiet. “You’re a lovely man, Castiel, please don’t ever forget that. It’s my fault.”

Castiel wants to laugh bitterly, but all that gets out of his mouth is a small sigh.

“It is. I’m— I don’t fall in love. Ever. I like people, I lust after them, but I could never develop any romantic attachment to anyone in my life. And I doubt it’s going to change anytime soon.”

Castiel swallows. “But—”

“I swear, I really wanted to help you. Please believe that. But I would never forgive myself if I forced you to marry me and thus denied someone else falling in love with you.”

Castiel steps back, keeping his eyes on Balthazar’s face. “So, this is it. We’re calling it off.”

Balthazar smiles sadly. “I think that would be the wisest thing to do, in this situation.”

“So it’s the end,” Castiel repeats quietly.

“Of our betrothal?” Balthazar asks with a hint of smile. “Yes. But I think I may have another suggestion for you.”

***

This is the worst idea he has ever come up with — and the fact that he wasn’t the one that suggested it but is still planning to act on it makes everything even worse.

Castiel paces his room, glancing at the small backpack on his bed. There’s an old tan coat lying beside it, together with a long, thick blue scarf Castiel got from his grandma for Christmas a few years ago and never wore before. He has his shoes on, black and squelching on the wooden floor every time Castiel makes a quick turn in his pacing. 

He’s ready — and yet he’s still so, so _not ready_ to do this.

His mother has already checked on him twice since Balthazar left, but Castiel didn’t let her in. He didn’t mention what happened, didn’t explain the engagement party isn't going to take place. He hopes they can forgive him — once he comes back.

Castiel stops in the middle of the room, the reality of what he’s about to do making him both terrified and unbelievably excited. In all of his life, he has never done anything this reckless — and brave — before. And yet…

When Balthazar, right after _breaking up with him_ , suggested going together to New York, Castiel had no idea what to say for a good minute. But then, Balthazar kept talking about how no one would notice his face in the big city, how he should try something else before tying the knot with any random person that agrees to marry him, and soon, Castiel knew his answer. 

The city has been calling out to him for a long time, after all, and he has no willpower to resist it any longer.

It doesn’t have to be forever, Balthazar said, and Castiel agreed. Going to the city doesn’t equal running away, even if Castiel doesn’t intend to tell his parents about it. Maybe spending a few days in New York can help clear Castiel’s head.

Plus, he’s been due for a journey like this for years.

He looks down at his watch and realises it’s time. Balthazar should be waiting outside now, just as they planned.

Castiel pulls the coat on, quickly, and grabs the small backpack. In his hurry, he almost forgets about the scarf, and has to rush back for it before sneaking out of his room quietly and pushing the doors closed behind him.

This is it. It’s happening.

The house is quiet when Castiel creeps down the enormous stairs, everyone already asleep, trying to get some rest before the party planned for tomorrow. Castiel feels a stab of guilt at the thought of everyone getting ready for the party while he doesn’t have any intention of attending it, but he pushes the thought away. He will be back soon, and he will explain everything then. For now, he has other things on his mind.

Somehow, he manages to get downstairs safely, without stumbling upon anyone. Even the old butler Joshua is nowhere to be seen, and when Castiel finally reaches the front door, pushes it open, and sneaks out into the chilly night air, his heart rate is almost back to its normal speed.

Getting through the front yard is even easier than creeping inside the house, the huge old trees adorning the driveway keeping him completely out of sight. Castiel wraps the scarf around his neck, jogs up towards the gate, and then he’s free.

The metal fence screeches when it closes behind him, but he barely registers it. He’s stood on this road many times before, but it has never felt like this — the night sky is huge and open above him, sprinkled with bright stars and light clouds. It’s quiet, most of the houses along the road deep in their sleep, with no vehicles around, no children running and screaming, no birds hiding in the trees. Castiel takes a breath, deep into his lungs, and smiles.

The sound of wheels on the gravel sounds awfully loud in the quiet of the night, and Castiel turns around, glaring at the gleaming dark red convertible that creeps up the road towards him. From behind the wheel, Balthazar grins at him and waves.

“Get in,” he whispers loudly.

Castiel casts one last glance towards the dark house he’s leaving behind, breathes deeply, and gets into the car.

“How do you feel?” Balthazar asks, still smiling.

Castiel feels a little bit queasy, but he decides not to tell him that. “I’m fine,” he says instead.

“You sure? I will kick you out if you throw up in my car,” Balthazar warns, proving he can read Castiel like an open book even in the dark.

“Please, just go,” Castiel mutters, slides down the car seat, and hides his nose in the scarf.

Balthazar chuckles, but complies. Castiel doesn’t look back as they race down the quiet road, even if he imagines he can hear his mother’s screams.

It’s quiet for a moment, Castiel unsure he even wants to speak. Balthazar seems to understand, because instead of talking, he reaches out towards the dashboard. Suddenly, there’s music around them, something electronic and sensual. It’s quiet enough that Castiel doesn’t need to worry about anyone hearing them and waking up to look through the window. And even if they did — New York is a huge city and, at least for some time, no one will be able to find Castiel.

“Do you have a plan?” Balthazar asks. 

Castiel nuzzles deeper into his scarf as they drive off the smaller road and soon join the much busier street, lit with numerous streetlights and loud with the sounds of other cars speeding past them. Castiel watches, transfixed, and breathes in the fresh night air.

“I’m going to stay in a hotel,” he answers finally. “Walk around during the day. I know you’ve got your own plans, and I don’t intend to keep you away from them. I can manage on my own.”

“Of course,” Balthazar hums. “Do you have a phone?”

Castiel sends him a sheepish look. “I never needed it back at home.”

Balthazar lets out a heavy sigh. “Alright. This is going to be the first thing you buy, then, and I’ll call you when I’m ready to take you back. How long are you willing to stay in the city?”

Castiel closes his eyes. “I’m not sure. I hope…”

“Yes?” Balthazar prompts when Castiel immediately doesn’t finish his thought.

“I hope I like it enough to stay for a bit longer.”

Instead of answering, Balthazar reaches out and squeezes Castiel’s hand with his own. 

***

They reach the border of Connecticut some time later, and it doesn’t even take them much more than an hour to reach New York. Castiel starts smiling, and Balthazar must notice it, because soon he’s turning up the volume of the music as they drive on, the night around them disappearing to give way to the lights of the city. 

The first thing Castiel notices is that everything looks… _huge_. The buildings, the streets, the billboards, even the sky — everything looks much bigger than how it did back in his hometown. Even at night, the city is full of people, and Castiel carefully readjusts the scarf wound around the bottom half of his face and hiding his nose. 

Balthazar asks whether he’s got any particular wishes regarding the hotel, but Castiel only shakes his head and keep on watching the city pass by. He sees crowded, well-lit cafes, bars, movie theatres — everything is still open, even though it’s nearly one in the morning. Castiel feels overwhelmed, and when Balthazar finally parks the car, he doesn’t even realise it for a long moment. 

He looks up when Balthazar gives him a gentle nudge with his elbow. They stopped in front of a line of skyscrapers, and when Castiel looks over at Balthazar, he grins at him.

“It’s not The Plaza, but it’s fancy enough, I think,” he says. 

Castiel looks back at the building right beside the car and notices fine gold letters adorning the elegant doors. He mouths the name to himself — _Excelsior_ — and decides it sounds appropriate, considering he does feel as if he was ascending towards something far greater than himself.

“You won’t be able to see Central Park from the window, but it’s close enough, just a minute or two this way,” Balthazar explains. “This _is_ going to be your first stop, isn’t it?”

Castiel smiles. “I’m not sure. I’m quite overwhelmed.”

“Well, get your overwhelmed ass out of my car now, because I can’t really park here.”

“Oh.” Castiel scrambles to unfasten his seatbelt, then sends Balthazar a questioning look. “You’re not going inside with me?”

“Why would I?” Balthazar chuckles. “No, dear, you need to try everything by yourself. This is how you learn _life_ , Castiel. Besides, I’ve got a date tonight,” he says and wriggles his eyebrows.

Castiel nods. “Alright. Thank you, then. For everything.”

“Yes, of course.” Balthazar winks. “Now please get out.”

“We’re going to see each other in a while, though?” Castiel asks as he leaves the car and grabs his backpack. “A few days, or a week?”

“Maybe,” Balthazar says. “Probably. But I can’t guarantee it’s not going to be longer. Do you think you’re gonna be okay with staying here for longer?” 

“I think so,” Castiel mutters, casting an uneasy glance at the hotel behind his back.

“Do you have money?” Balthazar asks.

Castiel tightens his grip on his backpack. “Yes.”

“You’re probably going to need more. Here, take this.” Balthazar takes out a small black card from the pocket of his pants and passes it to Castiel. “Use wisely… or not. And remember to text me when you buy a phone.”

Castiel hopes he still has the number Balthazar scribbled for him on the tiny piece of paper. 

“Now go,” Balthazar says with a wide smile, “and, for heaven’s sake, have some fun.”

***

The next day, Castiel is woken by the sound of traffic and needs at least a full minute to understand what’s happening. Back at home, all he used to hear were birds and the voices of his family and staff, and even that did not happen every day. Here, though, even despite Castiel’s room being on the fifteenth floor, he can still hear cars honking, wheels turning, people shouting, footsteps running. It’s a cacophony of sounds and there’s no chance he can go back to sleep now, but he revels in it, eyes staring at the ceiling and lips stretched wide in a smile.

He’s in New York, all alone, and he feels wonderful.

They bring him breakfast just as he’s finishing dressing, and he answers the door with a scarf wrapped securely around his face. The man on the other side of the doors doesn’t even blink, he just deposits the tray with Castiel’s food on the coffee table and stays where he is until Castiel remembers he’s supposed to tip him. The man leaves right after that, wishing Castiel a good day.

Castiel eats in bed, the window open to let in the sounds of the city. It smells different than back at home too, a mix of pollution, autumn leaves, and sun-warmed concrete, but Castiel doesn’t mind. He spends a good hour just wasting time in his room, getting to know its every corner and preparing himself, and when he finally goes out, he feels ready.

Well, more or less. 

The first thing that catches his eye when he exits the hotel is a park right in front of him. He wanders around it for a while, finds the Museum of Natural History, and ends up spending most of his morning inside, but he can’t find it in himself to regret it. Not even one person looked at him any differently, and even if the woman at the register had to ask him to repeat his question about the price because she couldn’t hear him properly, she didn’t ask him to take his scarf off.

He finds Central Park around midday and, unsurprisingly, doesn’t leave until the evening. He gets caught up in watching people around him, observing various street musicians, pigeons, even catching a sight of a squirrel or two. He doesn’t even realise he’s hungry until his stomach gives out a loud grumbling noise, attracting the attention of a woman passing him on a colourful bike.

Castiel hides his face in the scarf and quickly walks away. He enters the first place that sells food he can find, which turns out to be an Italian restaurant that sells pizza. He buys the biggest one they have and goes back to the hotel. It’s a long walk from where he is, though, and by the time he gets back to his room, the pizza is mostly cold. It’s still the best one he’s ever had.

After an entire day of sightseeing and excitement, Castiel falls asleep the second his head hits the pillow, and doesn’t wake up until the staff knocks at his door in the morning. He eats breakfast, packs some leftovers into his small backpack, and leaves for another day of walking around the city.

It’s late afternoon when Castiel runs out of food, water, and places to hide and eat without being seen. His feet are starting to hurt quite badly, too, so he pulls out the map he bought the day before and tries to figure out his exact position. It turns out he’s at least half an hour from the hotel and, suddenly, walking all the way back just to drink and eat something seems a little too much. Castiel looks around and almost immediately spots a cosy-looking bar on the other side of the street, the cursive letters right above the entrance proudly proclaiming it Churn & Burn. He doesn’t hesitate before crossing over and stepping inside.

It’s not a big bar, so even the few people inside make it look crowded and slightly noisy. Castiel walks in curiously, trying not to stare at the patrons sitting around in the booths and near the long counter. Instead, he tilts his head and admires the high ceiling, decorated with the widest variety of weird objects he has ever seen. There are paper planes there, old car wheels, big and small hanging plants, strings of colourful lights, and even, in the furthest corner, a vintage-looking bike. Castiel gapes, transfixed, and almost stumbles into a waitress trying to squeeze her way through people back to the bar. She’s short, with long dark hair, and strong red lipstick. She lifts her brow at him but doesn’t say anything.

Absentmindedly, Castiel follows her and reaches the counter. She slips behind it gracefully and stares at him as he chooses one of the high stools available.

“Hello,” he says after a moment of silence.

The waitress narrows her eyes. “You’re new.”

Castiel nods and adjusts the scarf over his face. The movement catches the waitress’ attention, but she doesn’t comment.

“You gonna order something?” she asks instead.

Castiel thinks for a second. “Can I have a beer on tap, please?” 

For some reason, the waitress snorts. “Sure thing, cowboy. Comin’ right up.”

Castiel watches as she grabs a high glass, fills it with golden liquid, and places it firmly on the counter. It’s far from where he’s sitting, though, and he frowns.

“Here you go,” the waitress says anyway, and then she’s pushing the glass full of beer towards him, the movement catching him completely off-guard. He jerks back, eyes wide, and the glass slides off the counter and breaks noisily against the floor at Castiel’s feet.

He stares at the waitress, appalled, and has no idea what to say. To his surprise, she bursts out laughing and can’t stop for a long minute, attracting the attention of the patrons sitting around them.

“Why did you do that?” Castiel asks finally.

“You’re supposed to catch it, honey,” says a deep voice behind Castiel. 

He turns around and spots a tall woman with dark skin, big eyes, and curly hair. She smiles at him, friendly, and bends to gather the glass pieces and mop up the beer.

“I’m sorry,” Castiel says, embarrassed. “I didn’t know…”

“Yeah, I figured,” the first waitress says. “I knew you were new, but not _this_ new. Is this your first time in a bar?”

Castiel scoffs dramatically. “Of course not,” he lies, only a little awkward.

“Yeah, I bet,” the waitress says and grabs another clean glass. “Okay, here, let’s try this again. Try to catch it this time.”

“Meg, stop throwing beer at people,” the second waitress drawls humorously. 

“I’m teaching him,” Meg says and slides another glass towards Castiel.

He manages to catch it this time and looks proudly at Meg. She lets out a surprised laugh and nods approvingly. Castiel squints down at the beer in front of him.

“Do you have a straw?” he asks.

Instead of looking at him strangely, Meg only shakes his head with another huff of laughter and passes Castiel a long green straw. 

“Welcome to Churn & Burn,” she says and winks.


	4. CHAPTER 3

## chapter three

By evening, Castiel knows all the people working the day shift, has learned the names of absent employees, and heard stories about their manager, Benjamin. For some reason, Castiel has been the centre of attention for most of the afternoon and even received his second beer ‘on the house’ from Meg, a plate of fries from Pamela, and an offer of a palm reading from Rowena. He declined the last one, but is currently sipping his second beer and finding out how it feels to be lightheaded from alcohol.

Pamela is still laughing at him when Castiel hears Rowena’s sweet voice call out ‘Dean!’ and he turns in his seat just in time to see a new patron walk in.

If Castiel’s mother were here, she’d probably describe him as ‘nice, tall, and handsome’ — and this time, she wouldn’t be wrong. The man seems to be in his late twenties, his shoulders broad and hidden beneath a brown leather jacket, his face split in a wide smile directed at Rowena. Castiel watches as ‘Dean’ saunters towards the bar and sits down a few stools away from him.

“Hi, all,” he greets the employees and deposits a small package on the counter in front of Pamela.

“How are you doing, Dean?” she asks, taking the package and hiding it beneath the counter. Dean passes her a piece of paper and she signs it without looking.

“Done with work for today, which is pretty awesome,” Dean says. “That was the last package.”

“Good, then you can join the party,” Meg says and puts the glass of beer in front of Dean.

“We’re having a party?” he asks with a grin and looks around. He meets Castiel’s gaze, raises one brow, and looks back to the waitresses. “What’s up with Scarfy over there?”

“That’s our new friend,” Pamela says and winks at Castiel.

“He is?” Dean asks, and looks at Castiel again. 

Castiel doesn’t look away, just sips his beer, glad that half of his face is invisible. It feels weirdly hot all of a sudden. 

“Well then, it’s a party alright,” Dean says, stands up, and walks over to the stool right beside Castiel. “Hi there, I’m Dean.”

Castiel shoots Meg a questioning look, surprised by Dean’s geniality, but Meg looks amused but doesn’t say anything. He glances back at Dean, who’s already sipping his beer and peering at him curiously over the rim of his glass.

“Hello, Dean. I’m Castiel,” he says finally.

Dean tilts his head to the side. “Cas-what? Sorry, it’s hard to understand you with that thing over your face.”

Self-consciously, Castiel adjusts the scarf covering his nose. “Castiel. My family has a weird naming tradition.”

“Ah, okay. What’s with the scarf, though? Are you cold or something?”

“Mhm,” Castiel murmurs noncommittally.

Dean glances at Pamela moving behind the counter. “Hey, Pam, can I get a burger? I’m starving.”

“Sure thing, honey,” Pamela responds with another smile directed at Dean. Castiel thinks, briefly, that for some reason, everyone in the bar has been smiling more since the second Dean walked in. They all must like him very much.

“You want one?” Dean asks, and Castiel needs a moment to realise he’s being talked to again.

“Sorry?” he asks.

“Do you want a burger? They’re delicious. Pam is super talented,” Dean says with an easy grin.

“Oh.” Castiel looks down at his stomach. He does feel a little hungry, even despite the fries. “Yes, please.”

“Awesome,” Dean says. He waves at Pamela to get her attention. “Make it two, Pam?”

Pamela sends him another wink, smiles widely at Castiel, and disappears into the backroom. Billie strides past them with a tray full of empty glasses and puts a small bowl with peanuts in front of them with another smile. Castiel stares at Dean when he thanks the waitress and digs into the bowl with abandon.

It’s like Dean is the bar’s special guest and everyone does everything they can to keep him around as long as possible.

“So, Cas, how was your day?” Dean asks, mouth full of peanuts.

Castiel blinks at him, trying and failing to gather his thoughts into something more coherent. Dean raises his eyebrows and sends him a small smile. 

“Do you mind if I call you that?” he asks uncertainly.

Castiel shakes his head. “No. It’s alright.”

“Cool,” Dean says, throws a few more peanuts into his mouth, and washes them down with beer. “Is it your first time here?” 

He offers the bowl to Castiel and wriggles his eyebrows. Castiel reaches out tentatively, plucks out one of the peanuts, pulls his scarf away, careful so that Dean doesn’t notice anything, then eats the peanut slowly. It’s salty and crunchy and it sticks to his teeth, so he sips more of his beer too. Then he looks at Dean and nods.

“And? Do you like it here?”

“Yes,” Castiel says. “New York is even better than I have imagined.”

Dean’s eyes widen. “Whoa! Is it your first time in New York, too? I was asking about the bar.”

“Oh.” Castiel thinks for a second. “Yes, I like the bar very much, too.”

Dean chuckles. “Yeah, it’s my favourite, I’m here almost every day. But back to you being in the city for the first time. Where are you from?”

“Connecticut,” Castiel says. He doesn’t want to share his exact address with a virtual stranger, but he thinks it won’t hurt to share the state he’s from.

“That’s not that far. How old are you again?”

Castiel tilts his head at Dean. “I haven’t shared my age with you before.” When Dean only chuckles again, Castiel shrugs slowly. “I’m twenty-six.”

“I can’t believe you’re from Connecticut and you’ve never been to New York before. But hey, I’m not judging. That’s okay. Maybe you had your reasons.”

Castiel nods. “Are you from here, originally?”

“Ah, no.” Dean drinks more beer. “I actually only came here a few years ago, with my brother Sam. He really wanted to go to Columbia. We’re from Kansas.”

“I have never been to Kansas either,” Castiel admits.

Dean laughs. “Where _have_ you been?”

“I don’t travel much,” Castiel murmurs.

“Hey, as I said, it’s fine,” Dean says with another wide smile. It’s friendly and understanding and Castiel can’t feel sad looking at it even if he wanted to. “I guess I’m just projecting, you know. Me and Sam, we’ve spent most of our lives on the road, and sometimes I forget other people haven’t. Call me out if you think I’m being insensitive again,” he says and winks.

Castiel lets out a deep breath and feels himself smiling back, even though he knows Dean can’t see it. “Of course, Dean.”

A moment later, Pamela appears again and puts two plates in front of them. Dean yelps happily and immediately grabs his burger, while Castiel is more careful with it. The scarf stays in his way, so he ends up asking for a knife and a fork, cutting the burger into pieces, and swallowing them beneath the scarf. It turns out that he really enjoys the taste of it, so his next bites are definitely more enthusiastic. Dean must have been observing him, because he snorts a laugh and nudges Castiel’s side with his elbow.

“Told you it was awesome,” he says, grinning. He doesn’t comment on Castiel’s scarf, fortunately.

Castiel can’t answer with his mouth full, so instead he just grunts, nods, and goes back to eating.

By the time he gets back to the hotel, his stomach is full, his head woozy, and his face hot beneath the scarf, but he can’t remember the last time he felt so good.

***

The next day, Castiel needs to force himself to plan his morning and early afternoon trip around the city so that he doesn’t go back to the bar first thing after waking up. He still spends the entire time thinking about it, wondering at the friendly atmosphere he was greeted with, at the people who, for some reason, seemed to enjoy his company even though it was the first time they met him. Castiel walks around the city, but can’t focus on sightseeing and finds himself counting down to when it will be appropriate to go back to the bar again. He eats lunch in one of the cafes on Broadway and is strangely disappointed by the way none of the staff seems interested in getting to know his name.

In the end, by the time he finally allows himself to walk into the bar, it’s even later than when he visited the day before. His stomach feels weird as he pushes the heavy doors open and enters, but the feeling dissipates as soon as he’s greeted with Pamela’s wide smile.

“Hello again, stranger,” she says in a low voice, a stack of dirty plates in her hands.

“My name is Castiel,” he says, uncertain. Maybe he misjudged the friendly atmosphere in the bar, after all?

“Yeah, sweetie, I remember,” Pamela says with a wink and ushers him towards the counter. “Beer?”

“Please,” Castiel murmurs and slides onto the stool.

“Welcome back, handsome,” Meg drawls as she appears in front of him. Her dark hair is tied back and Castiel spends a few seconds staring at the black tattoo covering half of her neck and disappearing on her back. 

She must notice his curious gaze, because she sends him a playful smile and turns around, showing him the entire thing. It looks like a long rose, tangled with vines and full of thorns, the tiny petals a vibrant red that hide behind Meg’s ear.

“Do you like it?” she asks and leans towards him on the counter.

Castiel nods, fingers itching to touch it and check whether the skin beneath it feels any different. 

“It’s beautiful,” he says.

“You should see the one on my hips,” she murmurs, eyes glinting. “It goes aaaaaall the way down.”

Castiel blinks at her slowly, then looks down, almost unconsciously. Meg’s body is hidden behind the counter, though, and when he looks up at her again, she’s laughing. 

“You can’t see it through my clothes, anyway,” she says with a smirk.

“Meg,” someone says from behind her, “customers.”

Meg rolls her eyes, but straightens up, grabs a notepad, and walks away to take new orders. Castiel looks up at the man that’s just appeared in front of him.

“Hello,” the man says. “You must be Castiel.”

Castiel nods. “Are you… Gadreel?” he guesses.

The man seems surprised for a second, but then merely sighs and shakes his head. “Yeah. They’ve already told you everything about me, haven’t they?”

Castiel chuckles. “Only a little. You and Benny are the only ones I still haven’t met, and I’ve heard Benny mostly works night shifts.”

Gadreel smiles. “That’s true. So, do you want something to eat?”

Castiel is pulling out his wallet even before Gadreel finishes the sentence. “Two burgers, please.”

***

Dean takes a seat beside Castiel about an hour later, just as Castiel finishes his first beer and returns the empty glass with a straw to a smiling Rowena. 

“Hey there,” Dean says and nudges Castiel with his elbow. “Still cold?” he asks, nodding towards the scarf.

Castiel pulls it higher over his face. “Mhmm,” he murmurs.

“Anything for you, Dean?” Rowena asks.

“Yeah, a beer and a burger, thanks,” he says with a smile. “My fridge is probably empty again, I didn’t have time to go grocery shopping.”

Rowena hums and moves to pour the beer for Dean, and Castiel turns towards him.

“Do you live close by?” he asks.

Dean chuckles. “Actually, yeah. Just a few buildings down the street. Got a studio over a coffee shop. You?”

Castiel shakes his head. “I don’t live in the city.”

Dean looks surprised. “But you didn’t go back home yesterday, did you?” 

“Oh, no. What I meant is, I’m only here for some time and I’m staying in a hotel near Central Park.”

“Damn, really? That’s like, Upper West Side. Must be expensive as hell.”

Castiel blinks, then realises Dean is probably right. He hasn’t thought about the amount of money he’s been spending during the last few days simply because he’s not used to thinking about money at all. He doesn’t want to say that out loud, though, without coming off as spoiled, so he only shrugs. 

“I manage,” he mutters.

Dean looks at him for a moment, lips parted as if he wants to ask something else, but then Rowena comes back with his beer. They fall into an easy silence as Dean sips his drink and they both watch the staff move around the bar. It’s slowly getting more and more crowded as the evening stretches and soon none of them have time to chat as they work, which leaves Castiel alone with Dean. 

For some reason, it’s strangely comfortable to sit there with Dean, drink, and talk. Dean asks him about his sightseeing and ends up recommending new places for Castiel to see in the city, and in turn, Castiel asks Dean about his brother and listens as Dean delves into an entire speech about Sam.

“He’s always dreamt of Columbia,” Dean is saying animatedly, “so by the time he graduated, we’d both managed to save enough money to move here. I already knew Pamela and she managed to hook me up with a job here so it wasn’t that bad. I worked as a bartender for like two months before I found the job as a delivery boy,” he says with a grin. “It’s not as bad as it sounds, I get to drive around the city on a bike and it pays pretty well.”

“It sounds amazing,” Castiel says, and it does, especially for someone who has never worked in his life before. “What about your parents?”

He realises he must have been too blunt when Dean’s face falls. His smile is back just a moment later, though, and fortunately, he doesn’t seem angry. 

“Mom died when we were kids,” he says and he sounds nonchalant, but Castiel can see his eyes have stopped smiling. “Sam never even knew her. We moved around with our dad a lot, picking up odd jobs here and there. He had a stroke a year before Sammy’s graduation.”

Dean reaches for his beer and sips it quietly. Castiel watches his face and has a strange urge to move closer and touch Dean’s hand, to comfort him. He doesn’t, and soon Dean is turning back towards him with a smile.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to bring this up, but I guess it’s just a part of me.” Dean shrugs. “I miss him and all, but it was a good childhood. I’m not damaged or anything.”

“Of course you aren’t,” Castiel says with a frown. “Why would I think that?”

Dean lets out a short laugh. “Oh, just… A lot of people think I should be angry and brooding all the time because I never really had a family or something. Well, wrong. I had Dad, and I still have Sam, and New York has been treating both of us really well so I can’t find anything to complain about.”

“That sounds reasonable,” Castiel says. “I’m happy to hear it.”

Dean laughs again, sending him a contemplative look. “Okay. Enough about me. What about you, man? Any siblings?”

Castiel smiles to himself. If he had any siblings, maybe he wouldn’t be in this situation right now.

“No,” he says. “It’s just me and my parents.”

“Where are they now?” Dean asks.

“Back at home,” Castiel says elusively. 

Dean hums, then leans with one elbow on the counter. They’re sitting face to face now, and Castiel notices with interest that Dean’s knees are almost touching his own. 

“And what brings you to the Big Apple?” Dean asks. “Just travelling?”

Castiel nods. “Mostly. My… friend was coming here and offered to take me with him. I gathered it would be a good opportunity to finally visit the city.”

“And where’s your friend now? Are you both staying at the hotel?”

“Oh, no, he left the night we arrived. He said he had some matters to settle.”

“And he just left you all alone here?” Dean sounds amused. “No offence, Cas, but you don’t exactly strike me as a big city kind of guy.”

“I can take care of myself,” Castiel mutters and glares at Dean. “I’ve been here for two days and I’m still alive, aren’t I?”

“Yeah, you’re doing great, Cas,” Dean says, laughing. “But if you ever need, you know, someone to show you around, you know where to find me.”

“I don’t, actually,” Castiel says with a frown.

Dean huffs out a laugh again. “Here, Cas. I meant you can always find me here.”

***

And he does. 

For the next three days, Castiel visits the bar and always finds Dean there. He’s usually sipping a beer or eating a burger after work, and Castiel stops hesitating before joining him at the bar. One evening, he gets to know Benny and watches for a few long moments as Dean and Benny joke and laugh together over a burger. There’s a weird sensation in his stomach that night, and Castiel ends up trying to ignore it and chatting to Meg instead. When Meg pats his cheek and leaves to take care of her customers, Castiel is left staring into his beer and sneaking glances at Benny and Dean. He’s considering leaving for the night when suddenly Dean walks over to him with a friendly smile.

“Hey, Cas,” he says over the noise the other customers are making. “I was thinking about driving home, do you want a lift or something?”

Castiel blinks. “A lift?”

“Yeah,” Dean says. He raises his hand and rubs at his neck. “I’ve got a bike. It’s kinda late now, so I thought maybe I could swing by your hotel.”

“It’s okay, Dean,” Castiel says. “I got back to my room even later yesterday and I was fine.”

“Yeah, okay,” Dean mutters. “Just thought I’d offer.”

Castiel smiles and then Dean walks away without another word. Castiel watches as he disappears behind the door to the restroom and, for some reason, feels as if he did something wrong.

“Want another beer, buddy?” asks Benny, pulling Castiel out of his thoughts.

Castiel glares at him. “No, thank you. I’m leaving,” he snaps, stands up, and leaves the bar in a hurry.

He stops after a few steps, though, frowning. He’s breathing hard and his heart is beating fast, but he has no idea why he feels this way all of a sudden. He glances over his shoulder, guilt over being unkind to Benny flooding him and making him want to return and apologise. But then he thinks of Dean coming out of the bathroom and learning about Castiel’s behaviour and he feels too embarrassed to move.

He spends a moment just looking at his own reflection in the window of the cafe nearby, but then he thinks he hears Dean’s voice saying goodbye to his friends at the bar and he walks away without looking back.

***

Castiel steps into the bar the next afternoon, determined to be nice to everyone, even Benny, and to ask Dean to give him a lift in the evening, but Dean never shows.

Castiel drinks three beers and eats two burgers, chats with Pamela and Meg and Gadreel, agrees to watch Rowena spread tarot cards for another customer, and by the time night falls, he’s already tired of looking back at the door and waiting for Dean to visit. If anyone notices, they don’t say anything and instead let him come behind the counter and learn how to pour beers.

“You’re here so often, it’s like you’re already working here,” Pamela says with a shrug.

“You’re a natural,” Meg says with a smirk as Castiel puts a glass full of beer in front of a customer without spilling anything. “And you’d look cute wearing our apron, even with that scarf.”

A bit later, when Castiel is busy washing the dirty glasses, Benny slides behind the bar and sends him a surprised look. Castiel clears his throat, but doesn’t know what to say.

“They makin’ you work for your drinks now?” Benny asks, and he’s smirking, so Castiel gathers he’s not really angry at him.

“I wanted to help,” Castiel says. “Everyone was busy and I was bored.”

“Cool,” Benny says with a shrug and drapes his apron around his middle. 

Castiel looks at the dark fabric for a moment and smiles. He thinks he would like to wear it too, someday.

He isn’t exactly surprised when Benny offers to teach him to make some more complicated drinks when there’s a lull in the flow of customers and, by midnight, when he finally leaves for the hotel, his head is full of drink recipes and his hands smell of sweet alcohol.

He thinks about Dean before he falls asleep that night and hopes he can see him the next day.

***

“Cas?”

Castiel turns on the spot, the apron twirling around his legs and the wet glass almost slipping out of his hands. He manages to grip it harder before putting it down on the counter in front of Dean who’s staring up at him, shock clearly visible on his face.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel says and feels himself smiling. Hopefully, Dean can see it despite the scarf. They haven’t seen each other in a few days and the last time they talked, Dean sounded a bit downcast after Castiel declined his offer. He doesn’t want Dean to think he’s not happy to finally see him again. 

“What are you doing, Cas?” Dean asks.

“Oh.” Castiel looks down at his clothes, at the apron tied over his shirt and pants. “I’m working.”

“You? Working here?” Dean’s eyes are still wide and impossibly green in the soft light of the afternoon, but there’s also a tiny smile tugging at his lips. Castiel smiles again when he notices it. 

“It’s not official yet,” Pamela says, appearing at Castiel’s side. “Maybe some day.”

“I’m sure Benjamin’s gonna agree when he sees you in action, Casanova,” Meg says. She puts a tray full of empty bottles and glasses on the counter near to where Dean is still standing and sends Castiel a playful smirk. “Cas is pretty awesome at this.”

“Wow,” Dean says and finally plops down onto one of the stools. “I’m gone for a day or two and suddenly you turn into a fully fledged bartender. Wow.”

Castiel wants to point out it’s been _four_ days since Dean visited, but he’s quite sure it would sound weird. Instead, he leans against the counter and looks Dean in the eyes.

“What can I get you, Dean?” he asks.

Behind him, he can hear Pamela starts to laugh, but he ignores her, fascinated by the way Dean’s eyes seem to shine as he smiles at him and asks for a beer. He can feel Dean’s eyes on him as he moves to grab a fresh glass and pour Dean a beer, and then doesn’t spill anything as he places it right in front of him. Dean grins at him.

“Do you want something to eat?” Castiel asks.

Dean lets out a chuckle. “What, don’t tell me you’ve learned to cook too.”

Castiel shakes his head. “No, but I can take your order to Pamela.”

“I’m fine, Cas,” Dean says with a smile. “Thanks.”

Another customer appears and Castiel prepares her a drink, watched by both Meg who’s checking how he’s doing, and by Dean, who doesn’t seem to have anything better to do. Castiel wants to ask Dean where he’s been for the last four days, but doesn’t want to sound too nosy and stays quiet, busying himself with washing the dishes instead.

It’s Dean who finally breaks the silence.

“So, how you’ve been, Cas?” he asks just as Castiel is putting away the clean glasses. “Apart from becoming awesome.”

Castiel’s face feels hot for some reason, and he touches his cheek absentmindedly. 

“Awesome?” he asks.

“Hey, anyone who can make drinks like that is awesome,” Dean says. Castiel notices the tips of his ears are strangely red, but he blames the setting sun for that. “But seriously, Cas. Everything okay at the hotel?”

Castiel squints at Dean. “Yes, it’s still a nice hotel. Why?”

Dean shrugs. “Just thought, you’ve been living there for some time now, maybe you need more money and that’s why you’re looking for a job.”

“I’m not looking for a job,” Castiel says.

Dean raises his eyebrows and gestures to the towel in Castiel’s hands. “And what do you call this, smartass?”

“I just thought I’d help,” Castiel says, shrugging. “Sitting here for hours has become a little boring, especially when I didn’t have anyone to talk to.”

Dean grins at him, leaning over the counter towards him. “Awww. You missed me, Cas?”

Castiel thinks for a moment. “Yes, Dean. I think I did.”

Dean blinks sheepishly at him, his face flushing pink. Castiel moves closer, so that they’re only separated by the counter. He wants to reach out and touch Dean’s face, check if it feels warm beneath his fingers, but his hands are busy and soon Dean is looking down and clearing his throat, hiding his face from Castiel.

“Uhm. Anyway,” he murmurs. “So, Sam had some free time from college this weekend and we flew to South Dakota to visit Bobby. I think I’ve mentioned him to you? He’s kind of like our uncle and we lived with him for some time, back when Dad was around. He doesn’t like travelling and he hates big cities like New York so I said, hey, Sam, let’s drop by and see how he’s doing.”

“That’s nice,” Castiel says when Dean finally pauses for a moment, still looking anywhere but at him. “I hope you had a good trip.”

“Yeah,” Dean says. “Yeah, it was cool. Still, no place like home, is there?”

Castiel hums noncommittally. 

“Has your friend been in touch?” Dean asks.

“My friend?” Castiel asks. “Oh. Balthazar? No, he hasn’t, not yet.”

Dean sends him a thoughtful look. “Do you know how long he’s planning to stay here?”

Castiel shrugs. 

“Mhm,” Dean says. “You can’t live in a hotel forever, you know.”

“I can’t?” Castiel asks, confused.

Dean snorts. “I mean, you _can_ , but… you shouldn’t? It’s expensive, Cas. Are your parents okay with you spending so much money?”

Castiel puts one of the glasses back where it belongs with a little too much force than necessary, but he doesn’t think Dean notices. “They don’t mind,” he says slowly.

“But that has to get boring sometimes,” Dean muses. “You can’t _do_ anything at the hotel, can you?” 

“Do what, for example?” 

“Oh, like, I don’t know. Clean? Cook your own meals? Have a pet? Decorate your room or some other shit?” 

“Hm. I’ve never thought about it before,” Castiel says. He’s not used to cleaning or cooking, anyway, and his parents never wanted a pet. He has to agree with Dean when it comes to decorating, though. He misses his books and his plants sometimes. 

“I’m sure you could rent something around here,” Dean says. “It’d probably be cheaper than the hotel, anyway.”

Castiel nods. “That’s true.”

“Or, I dunno.” Dean is looking down again, and Castiel needs to slide closer to be able to hear him over the noise in the bar. “I have a pull-out couch in my studio? If you ever needed it or something.”

Castiel smiles. “Thank you, Dean. I’ll remember about it.”

“Yeah.” Dean sends him a small smile. “Good.”

“Do you have any pets?” Castiel asks curiously.

Dean beams. “Yeah. I’ve never mentioned Pie before?”

“Sorry?” Castiel asks. “Pie what?”

“Pie,” Dean says with a chuckle. “That’s my bunny. Uh, I mean, my pet rabbit.”

Castiel lets out a breath. “You have a bunny?”

Dean clears his throat, but Castiel can see he can’t stop smiling. “Yeah, I do. Back at my apartment.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen one,” Castiel says in wonderment. “Apart from television, of course.”

“What, really? None of your friends had one? They were pretty popular when I was a kid, a few of the girls had them,” Dean says, a pink blush spreading across his face. 

Castiel shakes his head. “No, unfortunately.”

“Well,” Dean says. “You should drop by some time, meet Pie and all.”

Castiel smiles underneath the scarf. “I’d like that, Dean.”

Soon, he’s called by Pamela and needs to help taking orders as the flow of customers increases, but Dean stays in his seat for the entire evening and they chat whenever they can. Castiel feels drawn in by Dean’s easy smile and bright eyes, and he often forgets what’s going on around him when Dean keeps looking at him like that. 

He’s turned back from the bar, slicing up lemons, when he hears the conversation between Billie, Rowena, and one of the customers.

“Apparently, they’ve been looking for him for over a week and the parents are offering a _crazy_ amount of money for anyone who has any news,” Billie is saying.

Castiel turns his head, eyes still on the lemons, but ears straining to catch every word. 

“Yeah, but the thing is, there’s no photo,” the customer says, his voice enthusiastic. “No one knows what the kid’s supposed to look like, so I don’t know how they think they’re gonna find him.”

“They didn’t give any details?” Billie asks. 

“They did,” Rowena says. “They said, and let me quote, ‘he is tall, has dark hair, and blue eyes’.” 

“As if that tells us anything…” the customer sighs.

Castiel is still staring at the lemons, but his mind is too far away now to be able to keep slicing them like he’s supposed to. All he knows now is that his parents are definitely looking for him and that it reached New York — but is there any chance they can find him? There are millions of people that could look exactly like him and he hasn't told anyone he’s run away from home, so maybe there’s a chance they won’t find him just yet. Still, he decides, maybe he should be more careful, maybe he should change his hotel, stop showing up in the same places—

Suddenly, he feels a sharp pain on one of his fingers and he lets out a surprised cry. Shocked, he looks down at his hands and sees a deep cut on his thumb, the blood already pouring down onto the lemons. It stings.

“Cas?” 

Before any of the staff can reach him, Dean slides behind the counter and appears by his side, eyes worried as they look at Castiel’s hand. 

“I’ve cut myself,” Castiel says slowly.

“Yeah, I can see that,” Dean mutters and reaches out to take Castiel’s hand in his. “It’s pretty deep.”

“It hurts,” Castiel says.

Dean looks up at him and smiles. “You’ve got lemon juice all over it, I can only imagine,” he says.

“Don’t laugh at me,” Castiel huffs.

Dean chuckles. “I’m not laughing!” Castiel wants to point out that _yes,_ he really is laughing, but Dean grips his wrist and looks over at Billie standing beside them. Castiel didn’t even notice her come closer. “I can take care of it. Do you still have a kit in the backroom?”

“Yeah, of course,” Billie says and sends Castiel an amused look. “Maybe that’s enough work for today, boy.”

“Yeah, I’ll take him home,” Dean chuckles and tugs at Castiel’s hand before Castiel can protest.

“Ouch,” he manages as they fumble through the door to the room in the back, dark until Dean finds a light switch. Castiel has been here a couple of times already, mostly to leave his things as he works and put on his apron. Dean drags him towards one of the armchairs and pushes him down gently.

“Gimme a sec,” he says and leaves to rummage through the cabinets nearby.

Castiel winces as he looks down at his hand. His entire thumb, as well as most of his palm, is covered in blood, but he has to admit it’s not hurting too much. He notices red prints covering his wrist and realises they must be Dean’s. 

“How does it feel?” Dean asks when he appears by Castiel’s side a moment later. He crouches in front of him and reaches for his hand. Castiel sees that his fingers are a little bloody, too.

“I’m alright,” Castiel says. “It’s just a cut.”

Dean lets out a soft laugh. “Yeah, you should’ve seen your face when you saw all the blood.”

Castiel can feel himself pouting. “There was a lot of blood.”

“Yeah, sure, you big baby,” Dean teases.

Something warm spreads through Castiel’s body, but before he can think it through, Dean pours some liquid over Castiel’s hand and it starts stinging again. Dean keeps laughing as he cleans the cut and wraps a band-aid over Castiel’s thumb, and Castiel wants to be annoyed, but he can’t find it in himself. 

Soon, Castiel takes off his apron and Dean is leading him back out and they’re saying goodbye to everyone and leaving the bar. Dean stops when they’re on the street and looks back at Castiel.

“I know you said no last time I asked, but I’d really rather drop you off at the hotel tonight,” he says, voice a little uncertain.

Castiel tilts his head. “On your bike?”

“Yeah, Cas, on my bike.”

Castiel knows already he doesn’t want to say no this time, so he nods slowly. Dean grins.

“Awesome. Come on, you’ll finally gonna meet her,” Dean says excitedly, grabs Castiel by the wrist again, and pulls him towards the alley by the bar.

Castiel goes willingly, feeling Dean’s warm fingers on his skin and the warm autumn wind on his face. He adjusts the scarf over his nose with his free hand and follows Dean until they both stop in front of a huge black motorcycle. It has surprisingly small wheels, but what really draws Castiel’s attention are two long, silver wings attached to the back of the motorcycle.

“Meet my baby,” Dean says proudly. “She’s actually mine and they let me use her at work, so it’s pretty awesome. Here, put this on.” Dean passes Castiel a helmet and gestures to Castiel’s face. “I’m not gonna be able to persuade you to get rid of the scarf, am I?”

Castiel touches it self-consciously and shakes his head.

“Okay. Just keep it out of the way, got it?”

“Of course,” Castiel says. He manages to put the helmet onto his head and sends Dean a small smile, looking at him through the windshield covering his eyes.

“Zip it, you dumbass,” Dean murmurs, reaches out, and fumbles at something right below Castiel’s chin and the scarf. Castiel breathes out loudly, feeling Dean’s skin touch his, and Dean sends him another small smile.

“Thank you, Dean,” Castiel says.

“Sure.” Dean pats his shoulder. “Alright, hop on, buddy. Careful.”

Dean helps Castiel sit on the back of the seat and then slides onto it himself. He’s not wearing his jacket, just a purple and blue plaid shirt, soft beneath Castiel’s hands when he instinctively wraps his arms around Dean’s middle.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Dean says. “Comfortable?”

Castiel presses his cheek against Dean’s back and hums in agreement.

“Great,” Dean chuckles. Castiel can feel his body move against him. “Hold on, Cas, okay?”

“Okay,” Castiel says, closes his eyes, and then they’re flying.

Dean isn't speeding, but it’s fast enough to blur the lights and the people they’re passing. Castiel is mostly hidden from the wind by Dean’s broad shoulders and back, but it still howls in his ears, just as the motorcycle roars and trembles beneath them. Castiel gives Dean only a few directions, speaking them straight to Dean’s ear when they stop at an intersection or let someone cross the street. 

The hotel isn’t too far from the bar, so the ride is over quite fast. Dean parks right in front of the hotel’s main doors, pulls off his helmet, and turns to Castiel on the seat. He’s grinning.

“How was it?” he asks.

Castiel takes off his helmet and passes it to him with a smile. “Perfect.”

Dean’s eyes are glinting in the light pouring from the streetlamps around the hotel, his face flushed and his full lips stretched in a smile. Castiel tries to look away from him, but it’s difficult.

“Awesome,” Dean says quietly. “We should do it again some time.”

“Yes,” Castiel agrees. 

“Well,” Dean murmurs and licks his lips. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Probably, yes,” Castiel says with a smile. 

Dean reaches out, seems to hesitate for a second, and then pats Castiel’s shoulder again. “Okay. Have a good night, then.”

Castiel slides off the motorcycle, fixes the bundle of scarf over his face, and sends Dean a glance over his shoulder. “Goodnight, Dean,” he says, waves, and walks into the hotel. 

He can hear the purring of Dean’s bike even when he’s climbing up the stairs to his room and he smiles to himself.


	5. CHAPTER 4

## chapter four

Castiel closes the door to Benjamin’s office and steps out into the bar. He’s only a little surprised when he’s met with at least four pairs of eyes staring at him imploringly.

“And?” Dean asks eagerly from his seat at the counter. “How’d it go?”

Castiel shrugs, even though he can feel himself smile beneath his scarf. “It was alright, I think.”

“But did you get it?” Pamela asks. “What did he say?”

“He said he thinks I would fit in here,” Castiel says and goes back behind the counter. Dean immediately turns to him, following him with his eyes, mouth half-open as if he wants to ask more questions. Castiel feels a little bit warmer inside seeing Dean being so eager about this.

“So, you’ve got the job,” Meg says.

“Is it official?”

“When are you starting?”

Castiel ducks his head. “I’m signing the contract tomorrow, actually.”

“Whoa, that’s great, Cas!” Dean says with a wide smile. Castiel can see the rest of the staff nod their heads enthusiastically, as well.

“It’s only for a month for now,” Castiel admits. “But I think he quite liked me.”

“Beers on the house for everyone!” Pamela calls, and a few people sitting around the bar turn towards her and cheer. It’s only an hour into the afternoon so there aren’t too many people at the bar.

“I’m still on duty, so I’ll just have some water,” Dean says with a grin.

Castiel immediately reaches for a glass and pours water for Dean. He feels giddy and nervous at the same time, his insides still twisting at the thought of his first ever job interview. For a moment, he wonders what his parents would say if they could see him now, but he pushes the thought away quickly.

“So, your last official day off,” Billie says. “What are you going to do?”

Castiel frowns. “I thought I would just stay here with you.”

“No way,” Pamela says. “You’re gonna get out of here, right now, and enjoy your freedom while you still can.”

“But what am I going to do?” Castiel asks. “I don’t know anyone else here.”

“Just go sightseeing again,” Billie says. “You must still have plenty of things to see around here.”

Castiel thinks about it, but the idea doesn’t sound as exciting as it would a week ago, not if he can’t go there with someone else. 

“I get off in four hours,” Dean says. “We can go somewhere, if you want.”

Castiel looks at him and nods eagerly. Dean grins. 

“Hey, we should all go somewhere,” Pamela says. “Maybe a movie or something? There’s this new comedy I wanted to see.”

“I’m in,” Meg says and wriggles his eyebrows at Castiel. “We can share a soda and popcorn.”

Billie is already scrolling through her phone. “There’s a screening at eight. Shall we meet at the theatre?”

“I don’t know where it is,” Castiel admits.

“I can take you,” Dean offers. “Maybe we can go eat something before and then meet up with the others.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Pamela says, and then ducks behind the counter when the doors to Benjamin’s office open and the manager walks out. The rest of the staff disperses, too, throwing last cheerful glances Castiel’s way. 

Castiel walks out from behind the counter and Benjamin stops to look at him with a smile. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning, Castiel,” he says, waves at his employees, and leaves the bar.

“And I,” Dean says, patting Castiel’s shoulder and turning towards the doors, “will see you at your hotel at five, right?”

Castiel nods enthusiastically. He already can’t wait to see all of his friends again.

***

Dean is wearing a soft green shirt, open at the throat, and a pair of light jeans with a hole at one knee when Castiel walks out of the hotel and sees him. Something warm spreads over Castiel’s chest at the sight, and he can’t stop the smile that tugs at his lips underneath the scarf.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean calls when Castiel comes closer. He’s smiling widely, eyes narrowed against the bright afternoon sun.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel greets, then looks around. “Where is your bike?”

“Oh, I thought we could walk this time,” Dean says with a shrug. “It’s a nice day.”

Castiel smiles. “Yes, it is.”

Their shoulders bump a few times when they start walking and Dean chuckles and looks over at him as they cross the street and turns towards Central Park.

“Where are we going?” Castiel asks.

“So I know you don’t often eat in public, unless it’s Pam’s burger,” Dean says with a grin. “But there’s this awesome waffle place nearby I think you’d like.”

“Sounds lovely,” Castiel says.

“We can sit in the park while we eat. Maybe feed the pigeons or something?”

“Pigeons are irritating,” Castiel comments. “They keep waking me up every morning with their cooing.”

Dean bursts out laughing. “I can’t believe there’s actually an animal that you don’t like.”

“Why?” Castiel asks, frowning.

“I dunno. You just seem like an animal-loving kind of person, I guess? All Disney-prince like,” Dean says, and he’s still grinning, although Castiel doesn’t exactly know why.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Castiel says. “I like animals, but there are some species that are very neutral to me. And some that I’d rather not have any contact with.”

Dean laughs again. “Hopefully you’ll like Pie,” he says.

“I don’t have anything against bunnies, I think,” Castiel says, earning another grin from Dean.

“Good to know,” Dean murmurs and bumps his shoulder against Castiel’s again.

Soon, they reach the place Dean mentioned and they both order waffles with chocolate and whipped cream and eat them on the bench by the pond. Castiel has to use utensils again, but it’s hard to keep a plate on his knees, so he ends up accidentally dropping it on the ground. Dean laughs loudly as a few pigeons fly over and start pecking at the rest of the waffle while Castiel glares at them unhappily.

“Come on,” Dean says, standing up. “Let’s go buy some lemonade or something.”

They buy strawberry shakes instead and this time, it’s Castiel’s turn to laugh as Dean spills some over the front of his shirt. Dean shoves against him half-heartedly, but doesn’t seem too upset. 

“Good thing it’s gonna get dark soon,” he says and gestures at Castiel to follow him along one of the paths. 

They find a vintage carousel and Dean persuades Castiel to join him on the colourful horses that bob around to loud organ music. Castiel keeps sipping his shake as they pay and hop onto two black horses, surrounded by kids, their excited screams, and twinkling lights.

It does get dark as they finally leave Central Park and soon reach the movie theatre. Pamela and Billie are already there, and they only have to wait a few minutes for Meg, who soon appears right behind Castiel’s back and pats his buttocks playfully.

“Shall we?” she asks and saunters towards the theatre without waiting for them.

Castiel ends up sharing a bucket of buttered popcorn with Dean instead of Meg and enjoys the movie almost as much as he does the moments when Dean leans into him to whisper comments into his ear. His face feels pleasantly warm when they walk out after the movie ends, and he isn’t sure whether it’s because of his scarf or the way he can still feel the phantom of Dean’s breath against his cheek. 

“Everyone enjoyed the movie?” Pamela asks. She looks around with a grin, but Castiel notices she sends a particularly long glance towards Dean, her eyebrow raised and her smile smug.

“Could’ve been funnier,” Meg intones.

“I think it was very funny,” Castiel says. “I saw you laugh, Meg, so I know you liked it too.”

His friends burst out laughing at that and Meg glares at him, but she’s smiling so Castiel knows she’s only joking. He feels relaxed in a way he hasn’t in a long, long time, and doesn’t think twice before touching Dean’s shoulder to attract his attention.

“Did you like it, Dean?” he asks.

Dean blinks at him, then smiles. “Yeah. You’re right, it was pretty funny.”

“I’m glad, then,” Castiel says earnestly.

Pamela whistles. “Are you sure, Dean? You seemed kind of distracted to me.”

“True,” Billie chirps. “Do you even know what happened at all?”

Castiel frowns at his friends while Dean mutters something in protest. He knows Dean was watching the movie because all his comments were on point and relatable, and he has no idea what the others could be talking about. Soon, though, they move onto another topic, and Castiel forgets all about it.

When he gets back to his room that night, he already wishes he could be back with all of his friends again — and it’s a strange and wonderful feeling that leaves him smiling to his own reflection.

***

Castiel has only worked three full days in a row and is surprised how much more tired he feels, but he still doesn’t even think about saying no when Dean invites him over one afternoon after work. They both have the next day off, so Castiel gathers he can sleep in if he needs to, and a few hours spent in Dean’s company definitely won’t be a waste.

He receives the exact address of Dean’s apartment, but decides to go back to the hotel after work to take a refreshing shower and change clothes after long hours spent at the bar. He knows enough about social visits by now that he stops at the grocery store and buys a bottle of red wine and a box of chocolates. Incidentally, he notices there are only a few more bills left in his wallet, but he still has the card Balthazar gave him before he left so he hopes he will manage before he receives his first paycheque.

When he climbs the stairs to Dean’s apartment and knocks at his door, he suddenly realises he’s feeling a bit nervous. For some reason, the thought of meeting Dean alone at his own home makes Castiel’s knees weak and his throat tight. He tries to persuade himself to calm down — after all, he has seen Dean so many times already, and he likes to think they’re friends by now — but it doesn’t work as well as he’d like.

Dean opens the door with a wide smile on his face and something golden and fuzzy bundled up in his arms.

“Hiya, Cas,” Dean says cheerfully and moves back to let Castiel in. “Told you you’d find it without trouble.”

Castiel walks in, eyes on the soft thing fidgeting in Dean’s arms. Dean grins at him when Castiel sends him a questioning look.

“Awww, sorry, man,” Dean chuckles, looking down at the pet. “I think he’s being kinda shy today.”

Castiel reaches out before he can stop himself, but Dean only moves closer and lets him touch the fluffy fur on the thing’s body. It fidgets again and burrows deeper into Dean’s chest, but Castiel thinks he can make out its long ears and dark eyes.

“Hello, Pie,” he whispers with his head bowed, and he smiles when he pets the rabbit carefully, marvelling at its smoothness. “My name is Castiel. How are you doing?”

Dean chuckles again, and when Castiel looks up, he notices soft amusement in Dean’s green eyes.

“Just give him some time, I’m sure he’s gonna beg you to cuddle him soon enough,” Dean says happily. He bends down then, puts the rabbit down onto the floor, and nudges its plump rear. 

Castiel lets out an involuntary sigh when he catches sight of the bunny’s tiny face and paws, but then it hops away and disappears behind the couch.

“Come on in, man,” Dean says warmly, sending him another smile.

Castiel does, looking around in wonderment. The apartment isn’t big, and Castiel can see everything from the spot he’s in — a couch covered with colourful pillows in the middle of the room, a tall shelf full of books and various trinkets, a part of a bed visible right behind it, and a cosy kitchen area on the other side of the room. Big windows are letting in the warm setting sun and there are plants, pillows, and blankets all around the apartment. It’s not big, but seems spacious and lived-in, and Castiel already feels much better than he did only a few minutes before.

“Make yourself at home,” Dean says. “Want something to drink?”

Castiel remembers about the things he’s bought, and he hands them to Dean as he asks for tea. Dean nods and gestures to the couch. 

“Sit down and give me a sec, then,” he says. “Pie might jump on the couch, so don’t get startled if he does.”

“How old is he?” Castiel asks, watching as Dean bustles around the kitchenette, pulling out mugs and filling the kettle with water. 

“A year and a half? Something like that,” Dean says. “Got him when he was still a baby. I still remember how he kept biting everything he could reach, including me.”

Castiel smiles and leans over the couch when he hears loud rustling. The bunny is standing on two feet, looking up at him, his ears flat against his head.

“Hi,” Castiel murmurs to him. “Why do you call him Pie?” he asks Dean.

Dean laughs. “Uh, because pie is awesome? I don’t know. It kind of just happened.” Dean walks over to the couch and hands Castiel a cup of tea. Then, he leans over the couch as well. “But he _is_ my sweetie-pie, isn’t he, hmm?” he coos, bends down, and catches the bunny with both hands. He tries to shimmy out of his grip, but Dean only laughs and sits him down on his lap.

Castiel fidgets closer on the couch, hand outstretched. Pie lifts his head at him, sniffs his hand, and quickly hides against Dean’s stomach. Dean laughs and cuddles him closer.

“Don’t be rude, Pie,” he admonishes.

The rabbit flaps his ear at him.

“Wanna watch something?” Dean asks Castiel. “Pretty sure _Wonder Woman_ ’s on Netflix.”

Castiel doesn’t know a lot about movies, but he liked the one they all saw a few days ago, so he agrees. Dean lets the bunny go and stands up to turn on the TV and grab a bowl of chips and his phone before sitting back down next to Castiel.

“Do you wanna order pizza?” 

Half an hour later, Castiel is so immersed in the movie that he doesn’t notice the rabbit inching stealthily closer until he jumps onto the couch and nudges Castiel’s thigh with his nose. Castiel gasps and smiles, gently picking up the animal and pulling him into his lap.

“Will you look at this,” Dean hums, leaning over to pet the bunny’s head while he nestles against Castiel’s body comfortably, soft paws scratching delicately at Castiel’s hands. “You traitor, you.”

Castiel rubs behind the bunny’s ears. “I gather he’s not scared anymore.”

“Of course not, who could be scared of you, Cas,” Dean says with a playful smile. 

Castiel lifts his head to glare at him, and then Pie tugs curiously at the end of his scarf. It’s strong enough that the scarf almost slides down Castiel’s nose, and he moves so violently to catch it that the rabbit lets out a frightened squeak and scurries off.

“Shit,” Dean mutters. “Pie, come on, you chicken!”

“I’m sorry,” Castiel manages. He can feel his hands are shaking, and he doesn’t look at Dean, following the bunny with his eyes until he disappears in the other part of the apartment. “He just surprised me.”

He can feel Dean’s eyes on him, but he stubbornly keeps his gaze away. All this time, he’s been lucky — no one asked him questions about the scarf and no one minded that he never mentioned it either. If Dean demands answers now, Castiel will not be able to give them to him.

Dean stays quiet, though, and soon they go back to watching the movie, the silence a little tense between them — or at least it feels so to Castiel. The pizza arrives in the middle of the movie and Dean offers to open the wine Castiel’s brought. Castiel agrees — anything to ease the weird atmosphere. 

“So, I’ve got a confession,” Dean says just as Steve Trevor gets aboard the plane and flies it up to the sky. Castiel’s heart skips a beat when he thinks Dean wants to somehow ask about the scarf, but then Dean is laughing to himself and shaking his head. “Don’t know about you, but I honestly wouldn’t be able to choose between Diana and Steve.”

Castiel turns to peer at him. Dean is grinning, eyes still glued to the screen, a glass of wine in his hand. 

“They’re lovely characters,” he agrees and sips more wine through his straw. 

Dean chuckles. “Yeah. But I meant, like, romantically. Or, you know, sexually.”

Castiel doesn’t know how to respond to that, so he just looks at the TV and watches as Diana fights with the Greek god. 

“Cas,” Dean says. He still sounds mostly amused, but there’s a hint of nervousness in his voice too. “This is my way of saying I’m bi as hell and asking about you.”

Castiel blinks in surprise and stares at him. “Sorry?”

Dean frowns. “Would _you_ like to have a threesome with Diana and Steve?” he asks, and he sounds only half-joking. 

“I… don’t know,” Castiel mutters, feeling his cheeks getting hot beneath the scarf.

“Oh,” Dean says. “That’s okay, too, I guess.”

“I have never thought about it,” Castiel explains hurriedly. “I just—”

“Cas, it’s okay,” Dean interrupts with a smile. “That was stupid anyway. Forget it.”

“I have been meeting both men and women, if that’s what you’re asking,” Castiel says, thinking of all the people his mother has sent up to his room over the years. He has never thought of himself in terms of any sexuality, though, certain he would never have to worry about it back at home, but now Dean and the others keep challenging him in ways he could have never predicted.

“Oh,” Dean repeats. “Nice.”

He doesn’t say anything else and Castiel turns to look at him. “There was nothing sexual or romantic about it, however.”

Dean raises his brows. “What, never?”

Castiel bites his lips. “I… My parents are quite conservative. The people I met were usually approved by them.”

Dean’s eyes widen. “What, like, arranged relationships?”

Castiel nods. “They wanted me to marry someone appropriate.” 

He doesn’t want to share everything about his life and family, obviously, but it seems like such a big part of his life, and hiding everything from Dean, whom he considers a friend, is unfair and deceiving and exhausting. He knows a lot about Dean’s life by now, and he wants to reciprocate, somehow.

“ _Marry_? Dude, you’re twenty-six,” Dean says, appalled.

Castiel hesitates only for a moment before saying, “I was engaged before I left home.”

Dean gapes at him. “Oh, wow. Nice. It didn’t work out, then?”

“No,” Castiel says, smiling to himself. “He said he didn’t love me.”

Dean looks away from him and clears his throat. “Ah, I see. And you…?”

“We wanted different things,” Castiel explains. “We both agreed to break it off.”

“You’re okay, then? No broken heart or anything?” Dean asks, sneaking a curious glance at him. “Because I have a solution for that, and the solution is called more alcohol.”

Castiel chuckles and hands Dean his empty glass. “Yes, please.”

Dean laughs and pours them both more wine as the movie slowly ends on the screen. They’re quiet for a while, just drinking and watching, and then Pie comes back, hopping onto the couch and Dean’s lap. He lets himself be petted when Castiel reaches out for him, and soon he burrows into the couch between Dean and Castiel, closes his eyes, and seems to fall asleep.

“Another movie?” Dean asks, and Castiel nods.

They watch _Batman_ and Dean specifies there are three of those movies and if they don’t manage to watch them tonight, Castiel will need to come back another time. Castiel laughs but agrees and asks for more wine. 

Both the pizza and wine are gone soon, but Dean finds beers in his fridge and brings them to the couch. Castiel slurps it through the straw, fingers moving behind Pie’s ears as he scratches at his fur, delighted by the animal’s softness and warmth.

“Have you thought any more about moving out of the hotel, by the way?” Dean asks.

Castiel’s head feels pleasantly heavy and his vision blurs a little when he turns to look at Dean.

“No,” he says truthfully.

Dean snorts a laugh. “Okay. I guess my assumption is right, after all, then.”

“What assumption?” Castiel asks. He leans his head against the back of the couch, looking at Dean with half-closed eyes.

“Well, between the fact that you can afford the hotel for so long and everything you told me about your parents and the freaking arranged marriages, I’m guessing you don’t really have to worry about money, do you?”

“You’re asking if I’m wealthy,” Castiel says, and maybe he should think about being more careful, but this is Dean. They’re friends. Dean wouldn’t turn him over to his parents even if he knew they were looking for him.

“And what if I am,” Dean says, leaning with his elbow against the couch and at the same time moving closer. “Are you gonna be all secretive about it again? I mean, it’s pretty cute, but I think I deserve to know this much.”

Castiel looks down at Pie snuggled against his thigh and smiles to himself.

“My parents are rich, yes,” he says. 

“And they’re sending you money?” Dean asks.

Castiel pets the bunny’s head. “Hmm,” he murmurs.

“They are?”

“No.” Castiel squints at Dean. “Why are you asking?”

“Because I’m not dumb, Cas,” Dean says. He reaches out to touch Pie, as well, and their hands brush for a second before Castiel puts his own hand back onto his lap. “I know why you’re here.”

“You—you do?” Castiel blinks at him, surprised. It’s not possible. He has been so careful, he has always had the scarf with him. Dean can’t know the real reason.

“You ran away, didn’t you?”

Castiel thinks maybe he should be more concerned, but his head feels too pleasant right now. He frowns at Dean, anyway.

“How did you know?” he asks quietly.

“Cas, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out, okay? I can see the way you do stuff, like you’ve never done most of it before. I know a lot of weird people, Cas, but I’ve never met someone like you.”

“Oh,” Castiel murmurs.

“I mean it in a good way,” Dean says quickly. “Seriously.”

“Okay,” Castiel says. He avoids Dean’s eyes, though, and goes back to stroking the bunny’s head while Dean scratches beneath his furry chin. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before.”

“It’s fine,” Dean says casually. “I think I kind of get it. You wanted a fresh start and you can finally try to live your own life, yeah?”

Castiel smiles. “Yes. Exactly.”

“That’s understandable,” Dean says. “Honestly, I’m just surprised your parents have managed to keep you away from the real world for so long. Why did you decide to bolt now?”

“I had some help.”

“You mean the friend that drove you here and then disappeared?” Dean jokes.

“He will be back,” Castiel says. “And even if he won’t, I’m fine. I really like it here.”

“Yeah,” Dean murmurs. Castiel watches with a smile as Dean pokes the rabbit on his nose playfully, even when the animal tries to shy away from it and hide against Castiel’s leg. “New York is pretty awesome.”

“I’m very glad I met you,” Castiel hums, eyes falling closed. The buzz in his ears has been getting louder as he keeps sipping his beer, and he feels comfortable here, on Dean’s couch, with the bunny’s warmth pressed against his body and Dean close enough that Castiel can smell his shampoo. “All of you.”

He hears Dean’s soft chuckle. “Same, man. And look, if you ever need help — with your parents, unwanted suitors, money, whatever — you know I’m here for you, yeah?”

“Yes,” Castiel mumbles. “Thank you, Dean.”

“No problem, Cas.” He lets out a quiet laugh. “Oh god, just look at the two of you. That’s adorable.”

Castiel opens his eyes and squints at him. Dean grins.

“You’re both practically asleep.”

“Mhmmm,” Castiel hums and lets his eyes fall closed again. “I did work for almost nine hours today.”

“Right, little prince is not used to it, is he,” Dean teases.

Castiel is too sleepy and comfortable to even glare at him. “Not a prince.”

“Superman, then. Or, you know, Batman. Do you have a butler at your house?”

“Of course,” Castiel says without opening his eyes.

Dean says something else, but Castiel doesn’t really hear him anymore.

Some time later — it may be a minute or an hour, Castiel is too sleepy to know for sure — something warm gently touches his shoulder.

“Hey, Cas,” he hears someone whisper and slowly blinks his eyes open.

Dean is leaning over him, a small smile on his lips.

“Dean,” Castiel croaks. “What—”

“Hey, sleeping beauty,” Dean says. The skin around his eyes crinkles when he smiles. “Do you want me to call you a cab or something?”

Castiel groans and straightens up on the couch. There’s an unpleasant crick in his neck from the way he had his head pressed against the back of the couch. He realises he must have completely dozed off for at least a few long minutes. Fortunately, his scarf has stayed intact on his face.

“No,” he says and rubs his eyes, trying to wake up more. It doesn’t help. “I can go by myself, it’s not far.”

“No way, Cas, it’s the middle of the night,” Dean says. “I can’t drive you ‘cause we’ve been drinking.”

Castiel licks his lips and looks down. “I don’t want to spend money on the cab, Dean.”

Dean is quiet for a moment, and when Castiel looks up at him, he looks hesitant and a little bit sheepish. 

“You can stay here, if you want,” Dean says. “It’s not like I’m using this couch, anyway.”

“Dean,” Castiel says, “I wouldn’t want to bother—”

“That’s nothing, Cas,” Dean says with a shake of his head. “Seriously. You can stay if you don’t feel like going to the hotel now, I don’t mind, I’m sure Pie doesn’t mind either.”

Castiel smiles, then bends down and pushes his face right into the bunny’s soft fur. He can hear Dean laughing at him, but he ignores it, gently squeezing the animal and revelling in the feel of his warmth against his own skin. The scarf slides off his face a little, so he’s careful to tug it up before straightening again.

Dean looks at him questioningly, a smile still on his lips. “So? You wanna stay?”

Castiel smiles and nods.

***

For the first time in days, Castiel wakes up to another person’s voice.

“...maybe I can visit you, then, it’s not far. Yeah, I know we did, but there’s still a lot of time to Halloween, so maybe we could— Seriously? That’d be awesome, Sammy, you could see— What? I’m not whispering. No, there isn’t—”

Castiel rolls over onto his side, making sure his face stays hidden beneath both his scarf and the blanket that’s thrown over him. Opening his eyes, he immediately notices Dean standing in the kitchen and talking on the phone. A second later, the view is concealed by the very excited face of the light brown bunny.

“Hello,” Castiel hums sleepily and reaches out to scratch at Pie’s head. His nose quivers as he sniffs and nuzzles against Castiel’s face. “Did you have a good night?” 

Pie grunts happily at him, then scrambles onto the couch, soft paws bumping against Castiel’s head and chest. Castiel chuckles and hugs him closer.

“Oh, hey, Cas.”

Castiel looks up and notices Dean standing awkwardly between the kitchen and the couch, looking at the scene in front of him.

“Good morning, Dean,” Castiel says. He sits up, slowly, keeping Pie in his arms so that he doesn’t slide down onto the ground. 

“Did he wake you?” Dean asks, coming closer.

“No,” Castiel says and pets the bunny’s head. “What time is it?”

“Around nine,” Dean says. When Castiel looks at him, he smiles widely. “Come on, I’ve got coffee and donuts.”

“Donuts?” Castiel asks curiously. He lets Pie hop down, then moves the blankets away and stands up. He’s wearing a strange black shirt that’s a little too loose for him and a pair of grey pants, and he’s confused for a second until he remembers last night, Dean pushing the clothes into his arms, and then leading him towards the bathroom with a hand on his elbow. 

When he looks back at Dean, he’s staring at the clothes, as well, but looks away as quickly as he catches Castiel’s gaze.

“Yeah,” Dean says and clears his throat. “I went to the coffeeshop downstairs and bought us some for breakfast. You eat breakfast, right?”

“Yes,” Castiel says. “I also like coffee.”

They both sit down at the high kitchen island and Dean slides a paper cup of coffee and a lumpy bag towards him.

“You can have two,” he says with a grin.

Castiel takes one donut out of the bag and places it on the counter in front of him. Then, he eyes the coffee cup.

“You want a straw, don’t you,” Dean says slowly.

Castiel looks up at him, then nods.

Dean doesn’t move and keeps his eyes on him. “Cas, do you— Are you always gonna be like that around me? You know you can trust me, don’t you.”

Castiel breathes in slowly. “Yes.”

“Then, maybe, you know… Why don’t you…”

“I’m not taking it off, Dean,” Castiel says, and he doesn’t intend to sound quite so harsh, but Dean winces anyway.

“Suit yourself, then,” Dean mutters and stands up angrily to find him a straw.

Castiel lets out a sigh. “Dean… It’s not because of you.”

“Whatever, Cas. I get it,” Dean says shortly without looking at him.

“I don’t think you do,” Castiel says.

“Yeah, you’re right, I don’t,” Dean snaps, turning back towards him. “At first I thought, okay, so he’s got this weird thing. Everyone is weird around strangers, right? But I thought we were friends.”

Castiel looks at him pleadingly. “We are, Dean. But this has nothing to do with that.”

Dean sighs heavily. “Cas, I don’t care what you look like, okay? I don’t. At all. You may have the ugliest chin or zero teeth or a fucked up nose, but you know what? I don’t care. So you don’t have to worry about it.”

Castiel shakes his head. “No, Dean. I… I just can’t. Not yet.”

Dean is silent for a moment, and when Castiel raises his head to look at him again, he doesn’t look angry anymore, even if there’s something close to hurt visible on his face. He meets Castiel’s eyes and shrugs.

“Okay, Cas. Whatever you want. I’m not gonna force you.”

“Thank you, Dean,” Castiel says with a slow nod.

“Just wanted you to feel more comfortable,” Dean mumbles and sits back down beside him.

Castiel has the biggest urge to reach out and touch him, to brush his fingers against his cheek and through his hair. He refrains, looking down at his coffee and smiling to himself.

“I know. Thank you,” he repeats.

They eat their breakfast mostly in silence, but it’s not unpleasant. Dean doesn't mention the scarf again, even later, when they make their way downstairs and it turns out it’s a really warm morning. Dean offered to drive Castiel to the hotel, and he makes good on his promise. He also suggests going to see Liberty Island with him, and Castiel accepts eagerly, happy to spend more time with Dean. He needs to change into fresh clothes, though, so he takes Dean upstairs to his room and makes him wait while he washes his face and dresses in the bathroom.

When he comes out, Dean is half-lying on the bed and staring down at his phone. He looks up when he hears him and smiles.

“Ready?” 

Castiel nods and adjusts the scarf. “Yes.”

They catch an elevator and drive down, chatting, and are almost out of the building when the woman at the reception notices them and calls out Balthazar’s last name, the one Castiel has been using from the beginning of his stay since it’s the name that appears on the card Balthazar gave him. Both Dean and Castiel stop and turn towards her.

“Mr. Milton, can we please talk for a second?” the woman asks.

“Of course,” Castiel says and walks over to her, a hint of nervousness twisting his insides. “Is something wrong?”

The woman nods slowly. “I’m afraid there has been a problem with your card, Mr. Milton. We couldn’t transfer the money last night and I need to ask you for another way of settling your payment.”

Castiel blinks with surprise. “Can you try again?”

The receptionist sends him a tight smile. “I don’t think it will be of much help, Mr. Milton. I’m quite sure there’s no more funds on your card.”

Dean appears next to Castiel and touches his elbow. “What’s up?”

“Do you have another card, Mr. Milton? Or do you want to pay by cash?” the woman asks.

“No,” Castiel says. “I don’t.”

“What’s going on?” Dean asks again.

Castiel sends him a quick look. He can feel his cheeks burning with heat. “I’m sorry. I’m not going to be able to pay for the room any longer,” he says to the receptionist.

She doesn’t seem particularly surprised. “Of course. I’ll need you to sign this, then. You will also need to check out before noon today.”

One quick look at the clock right behind the receptionist tells Castiel he’s got less than an hour. He nods and signs the form the woman slides towards him.

Dean is silent when he follows him back to the elevator and up to his room. Castiel doesn’t look at him when he starts packing his things in his backpack. Fortunately, he doesn’t have a lot of things, so it doesn’t take long, but he still has more clothes now than before he arrived in the city, and the backpack is too small for them.

“Here,” Dean says, appearing next to him with a plastic bag in his hand. “Found it in one of the drawers, you can use it for now.”

“Thank you,” Castiel murmurs and stuffs his clothes into the bag.

“You’re gonna need a suitcase soon,” Dean jokes.

Castiel ignores him and goes around the room one more time to check if he’s packed everything. He retrieves all of his things from the bathroom and then turns to leave, Dean following closely behind. Castiel can almost hear Dean’s impatient questions even though he doesn’t ask them out loud. Without looking back at him, Castiel returns the key, bids the receptionist goodbye, and walks out of the hotel.

Just as Castiel predicted, Dean doesn’t stay quiet for long.

“Cas,” he calls when he joins him on the street. “What are you going to do now?”

Castiel looks at him and is surprised to see nervousness on his face. He frowns. “I don’t know.”

“Are you… gonna go home?” Dean asks slowly.

“Home?” Castiel repeats, bewildered. “I just got a job, Dean, I don’t intend to go home for some time.”

“Oh,” Dean says, his face clearing. “That’s good.”

“Yes,” Castiel murmurs, and then looks down at the backpack at his feet. “I’m afraid I can’t go see Liberty Island with you today, though. I should find a new place to live, I guess. You mentioned the apartments near the bar are less expensive than the hotel, yes?”

It’s Dean's turn to frown. “Probably, yeah, but do you… even have any money?”

“I will have, once I get my first paycheck.”

“That’s like a month from now, though.”

Castiel swallows. “Maybe I’ll find a place where I can pay afterwards…”

Dean shakes his head. “Okay, Cas, I don’t think that’s gonna be possible, sorry. Listen, why don’t you stay with me for a bit, then look around to find a new place—”

“No,” Castiel says immediately.

Dean raises his eyebrows. “No?”

“No.” Castiel shakes his head. “I’m not staying with you.”

“Cas, it’s not a problem, I swear. I think the couch is comfortable enough, which you can judge for yourself now, and—”

The thought of living with Dean, of constantly having to be careful with the scarf around his face, to think about it even at night, or every time he eats or drinks — it’s too much. Castiel has already told Dean a lot more than anybody else, and he’s scared he’s going to slip up again, and again, and again, and when Dean learns the truth about him, it’s going to hurt much more than he can imagine.

So he repeats, “No,” grabs his things, and turns to walk away.

“Damn it, Cas, wait,” Dean calls after him. He catches up with him and tries to look into his face. “Look, I’m not gonna force you, okay? I’m just offering, as a friend. I want to help you, okay? What are you gonna do?”

“I’ll figure it out,” Castiel says quietly. He has no idea what he will do, but maybe he can ask Benjamin if he could stay at the bar for some time. The couch is there for a reason, right?

He doesn’t say it out loud, though, because he can already feel this is not a clever idea. It would be best if he could find Balthazar, but he hasn’t yet answered any of Castiel’s texts, so this may be difficult, too. It doesn’t hurt to try again.

In fact, he thinks, he should do it right now. He stops in the middle of the street and pulls out the phone out of his backpack. Dean stops, too, and watches as Castiel dials the number and puts the phone up to his ear. 

Balthazar doesn’t pick up. Castiel tries again.

“Who are you calling?” Dean asks.

“My friend,” Castiel says. He tries for the third time, but he gives up when Balthazar doesn’t answer again. With a resigned sigh, Castiel pockets his phone and meets Dean’s eyes.

Dean lets out a quiet breath. “We can try asking people at the bar. Maybe someone has a spare room or something,” he says quietly.

Castiel thinks about it for a second and quickly realises it’s a worse idea than staying with Dean. The people working at the bar are his friends, yes, but they still don’t know anything about the curse and they’re bound to ask even more questions than Dean. 

Dean must see the answer on his face, because he shakes his head.

“I’d lend you money, man, but I don’t think I can afford double rent,” he says regretfully.

Castiel’s eyes widen. “No! I don’t want to take your money, Dean. And… I don’t want to burden you. You’ve already done a lot for me, and I… I don’t want to take advantage of that…”

To his surprise, Dean laughs. “You’re worried about taking advantage of _me_? Cas, come on, I’m the one offering you my couch, and you’re refusing again. Look, man, you don’t have to worry about any of this. We both work during the day, and sure, I’ve got only one room, but I think it’s pretty big, and I honestly _won’t mind_ having you there. I couldn’t stand the thought of you sleeping on a street or something.”

Castiel shudders, and Dean smiles at him.

“Come on,” Dean says. “Let’s go and get rid of all of your stuff first, and then we can think more about it. Maybe we can find another solution.”


	6. CHAPTER 5

## chapter five

Despite his worries, Castiel finds himself on Dean’s couch for the second night in a row. He’s still unsure of this arrangement and scared something is going to go terribly wrong, especially if Dean sees his face — but it seems Dean is equally anxious and it makes Castiel feel a tiny bit better. That night, they both go to sleep after exchanging quiet ‘goodnights’ and friendly smiles.

Dean lets Pie run free, even at night, so in the morning Castiel wakes up with the bunny snuggled against his shin. His scarf is still safely covering his face and Dean seems to be asleep, so Castiel stands up as quietly as he can and sneaks to the bathroom to take a shower and get dressed. Dean gave him the same sleeping clothes he had the night before, and Castiel transports them back to the couch where he tidies up the pillows and the blankets. Pie has apparently gone to check on still-sleeping Dean, but he comes back just as Castiel finishes making tea and sits down on the couch to drink it.

Dean wakes up some time later and stumbles towards the kitchen with a sleepy ‘hey, Cas’ thrown his way. Castiel watches him make coffee and breakfast with a warm feeling in his stomach. The sight of Dean so fresh out of bed seems intimate, but Castiel finds he can’t look away. Dean’s hair is ruffled, his entire face relaxed, t-shirt hanging loose over his broad shoulders and strong legs visible from beneath his shorts. Pie comes hopping towards him and Dean picks him up, burying his face in the soft fur and mumbling something sweet and quiet.

They eat breakfast and drink coffee in Dean’s kitchen, and then both leave for work. Dean’s apartment is only a five-minute walk from the bar, so Castiel is there earlier and spends his spare time trying to call Balthazar again, but this time, it goes to voicemail. He leaves him a short message and gets to work.

Around lunch, Dean walks into the bar and hands Castiel a single key.

“You should have your own,” he says with a warm smile, waves at the other employees, and leaves again.

Meg leans over the counter, hands on her hips and a predatory smirk on her lips.

“What was that about?” she asks.

Castiel hides the key in his pocket and looks away. “Didn't you see? Dean stopped by.”

“Yes, but why? And why do you need a mysterious key from Dean?” she asks.

“It’s not a mysterious key,” Castiel mutters. His face feels hot and he gathers it’s because at least three people, including Meg, Billie, and Rowena are looking at him. “It was a key to his apartment.”

“Ooooh!” Rowena says excitedly. “What happened?”

“There’s nothing to be happy about,” Castiel says with a frown. “I had to move out of the hotel because I’ve run out of money.”

“And where does Dean come into this?” Billie asks with a smug smile.

Castiel clears his throat. “He offered me his couch. Only for a while. Until I get my first paycheck and rent my own place,” he says and is a little shocked he sounds quite so… awkward. He’s not especially ashamed of having no money, just as he’s not ashamed to be living with Dean at the moment… is he?

“That’s awfully nice of Dean,” Meg drawls. “Bet he does this for all the pretty boys.”

Castiel glares at her. “We are friends, Meg. I don’t understand why you’re being mean, it really _was_ nice of him. Now excuse me, I need to go clean the tables,” he mutters angrily and stalks off, leaving the three women laughing after him.

Suddenly, he’s more than glad he doesn’t have to live with any of _them_.

***

If Dean feels weird about coming back home after work and finding Castiel waiting for him with take-out dinner, he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he grins and plops down onto the couch with a pleased sigh.

“You shouldn’t spend money, Cas,” he says with his mouth full.

Castiel eats carefully, small bites underneath the scarf. “I wanted to do something in return. I also cleaned Pie’s litter box and swept the floors.”

Dean stops eating and stares at him, unblinking. “What? When?”

“After work,” Castiel admits with a shrug. “I was here an hour before you,” he reminds Dean.

“Cas, you didn’t have to,” Dean says, but he’s smiling. “But thanks anyway. I should’ve found a roommate earlier.”

They spend the evening watching another movie on the couch, and then Dean’s phone starts ringing and he leaves towards his bed, where Castiel can’t hear him anymore. Castiel spends this time cleaning the kitchen after dinner, taking a shower, and brushing his teeth, and when he comes out of the bathroom, Dean is playing with Pie in the middle of the room. He looks up when he hears Castiel and smiles as his gaze lingers on Castiel’s chest for some reason.

“Ready for bed?” Dean asks, voice friendly.

“I think so.” Castiel nods. “I like your shower.”

Dean laughs and stands up, Pie hopping happily around his feet. “Yeah, I know. Awesome water pressure.”

Castiel nods again and hides his used clothes in his backpack beside the couch. He can feel Dean’s eyes on him, but he looks away quickly when Castiel looks up. 

“Okay, um. My turn, I guess,” Dean says and leaves for the bathroom.

Castiel spends a few more moments petting Pie and waiting for Dean to return. Dean seems to be taking his time in the shower, though, so soon Castiel lies down on the couch and falls asleep, light still on in the apartment and Pie grunting happily somewhere in the corner of the room.

***

It doesn’t take much for Dean to convince Castiel to go out for drinks with him. 

It’s Friday evening, Castiel is finished with work for the day and has the next one off, and Dean has been sitting at the bar and nursing a beer for the last two hours. The atmosphere in the bar is especially friendly tonight, so Castiel simply joins Dean at the counter and orders his own beer. They spend one more hour there, chatting with everyone, and then leave before Dean can buy more beers. It’s cold outside, though, and Dean persuades Castiel to walk into another bar so that he can ‘learn more about life’. The bar is noisy and crowded and Dean buys them a few colourful shots that seem to go straight to Castiel’s head.

Dean proposes going home then, but Castiel is feeling free and relaxed enough to refuse. With the scarf safe over his face, they visit a few more places, many of which offer Dean drinks for free, the staff obviously recognizing him. It’s hard to talk inside the bars with loud music and so many people, so they huddle close, Dean pointing out different people and telling stories about things Castiel knows very little about. Castiel asks questions and he thinks some of them must be funny for some reason because Dean keeps laughing maniacally, his eyes bright and his hands hovering near Castiel’s body as if he wants to touch.

“You are the weirdest guy, Cas,” Dean says as they make their way down the street. People keep passing them, despite it being the middle of the night, and Castiel is feeling so nice he watches everyone with interest and a smile so wide it has to be visible even in his eyes. 

A group of girls giggle when they walk past them, and they whisper among each other when Castiel looks at them. Dean meets his eyes with raised brows.

“You checkin’ people out, Cas?” he asks and bumps his shoulder against Castiel’s.

“What do you mean?” Castiel murmurs. His tongue feels funny in his mouth, almost as if it’s too heavy to speak, but he tries to anyway. Dean must understand him, though, because he keeps talking.

“You know. Looking for someone to have fun with.”

Castiel sends him a surprised look. “I’m having fun with you, Dean,” he says seriously.

He watches as Dean’s eyes widen and his cheeks colour. Fascinated, Castiel gravitates closer to Dean and keeps his gaze on him.

“Yeah,” Dean says, his voice strangely low. “Yeah, Cas, me too.” He looks away and his face brightens. “Oooh, I know this bar, come on in.”

They end up squished into one of the tiny booths inside the bar, with shots of tequila lined up in front of them. Castiel has never drunk tequila or done shots before this night but he thinks he likes both of those things very much. They both take one shot each and then Dean leans heavily into him and grins.

“How’re you feelin’?”

Castiel blinks slowly at him. He’s warm and loose-limbed against Dean’s body.

“Awesome,” he says with a smile that no one can see, but he thinks Dean must know he’s smiling because he returns it with a wink and a playful nudge against Castiel’s shoulder.

“You’ll tell me when you’ve had enough, yeah?” Dean asks, leaning in close to reach his ear.

“Yes, Dean,” Castiel responds loudly. “Don’t worry, I’m not so fragile.”

Dean’s answering laugh is so contagious, they end up chuckling for some time. Then, Dean raises the second shot and they both drink before standing up and heading towards the exit. Castiel has to grab Dean’s elbow to be able to follow him closely.

The second they step outside, though, someone blocks Castiel’s way. He looks up to see a tall man with a bottle in his hand and a wide smile on his lips.

“Heeey,” he says.

“Hello,” Castiel answers.

“That’s a nice scarf you’ve got there,” the man says, a little drunkenly. “What’s your name?”

“Cas?” Dean must have noticed Castiel isn’t following him anymore and he slowly walks over towards them, a frown on his face.

“You’re pretty, wanna come over to my place?” the man asks before Castiel can even consider answering his last question.

“I’m sorry,” Castiel says slowly, trying to sound clear despite his inebriated state, “who are you?”

“I’ll tell you in a sec,” the man says with a grin and grabs Castiel’s arm.

Castiel shakes him off. “I’m sorry, my friend is waiting for me.”

Dean is standing right there, glaring at the man, his hands curled into fists. Castiel realises the strange man has put his hand on him again and he frowns and steps back.

“Oh come on, doll, you don’t have to be like that,” the man mutters. “Your friend can join us if he wants!”

“Like hell,” Dean nearly growls.

Castiel meets his eyes and slowly shakes his head. “Excuse me,” he says loudly, gently pushes the man’s hand off of himself, and passes him without another glance. “We have to go now.”

He joins Dean and Dean almost immediately throws an arm over his shoulders and pulls him away from the bar. The man yells something at them angrily, but he doesn’t follow, and soon they can’t hear him anymore. Castiel chuckles to himself, more amused than scared, and realises Dean still has his arm over him.

“It’s okay, Dean,” Castiel says quietly. “I think I’ve managed to get through to him.”

Dean looks at him, face incredulous, and then huffs out a laugh.

“Dammit, Cas,” he murmurs as his arm tightens over Castiel’s shoulders. “I thought I would have to fight him off.”

“I would have been fine,” Castiel assures with a smile.

“Yeah right,” Dean says. “What you need to do is stop staring at random people with those pretty blue eyes of yours.”

Castiel smiles again and meets Dean’s gaze. “I meant I would be fine fighting him off myself,” he says.

Dean’s eyes widen. “What? You and fighting?”

“Dean.” Castiel squints at him. “I’ve been training in martial arts since I was seven.”

Dean lets out an impressed laugh. “Oh my god, seriously? Dude. That’s awesome, I’d never take you for a guy that can beat the shit out of people!”

Castiel chuckles. “There are still a few things you don’t know about me, Dean.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

“All in time,” Castiel says, sending Dean a meaningful look.

“I hope so.” Dean winks.

They reach Dean’s apartment just a few moments later. Dean’s arm is still keeping Castiel close and Castiel has no intention of moving away — he’s too warm and comfortable for that. Dean keeps smiling at him and laughing and he smells nice, and Castiel regrets they will need to walk upstairs and go to sleep now. That’s why he stops in front of the building, forcing Dean to let him go, and suggests finding yet another bar.

Dean laughs at him. “I think you’ve had enough.”

“You’ve had enough,” Castiel shoots back. “I’m not tired.”

“You will be tomorrow,” Dean says and steps closer again.

“I can sleep tomorrow,” Castiel says.

“You can also sleep now.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

Dean chuckles. “Cas,” he murmurs. They’re standing face to face now, Dean’s warmth and scent making Castiel dizzy almost as much as the alcohol. “Come on, it’s late and we’re both drunk as hell.”

Castiel pouts and pokes Dean in his chest. “Deaaan.”

Dean catches his wrist. “Cas. Trust me, I know what I’m saying.”

“You don’t sound drunk,” Castiel mumbles. He lifts his head and meets Dean’s eyes, so close to his, his wrist still in Dean’s hands.

“Trust me, I am,” Dean says quietly, gaze flicking over Castiel’s face. “Very.”

Castiel hums and uses his other hand to touch Dean’s chest again. Dean laughs, his breath warm against Castiel’s cheek, but he doesn’t move away. His fingers tighten over Castiel’s wrist and tug.

“Come on, Cas,” he whispers. “Let’s go upstairs.”

Castiel doesn’t find it in himself to protest.

They stumble into the apartment, Dean still holding Castiel’s wrist in his hand. They let go of each other when they shed of their coats, but they stay close, shoulders brushing and voices low. Dean doesn’t turn on the light as they walk inside, towards the couch.

And still, even in the dark, they’re able to see that someone is currently sleeping in the very same spot Castiel has been sleeping in for the last few days.

Castiel looks up at Dean, surprised.

“Shit,” Dean curses, grabs Castiel’s hand, and pulls him away from the couch and behind the shelf that hides the bed.

“Dean, who was that?” Castiel asks, startled.

“My brother,” Dean says quietly. “I completely forgot he was going to come here tonight and stay for the weekend.”

“That’s your brother?” Castiel wants to go back and look at him again, but Dean squeezes his hand and reels him back.

“Shh, let’s not wake him, okay? It’s pretty fucking late.”

“Oh, okay,” Castiel murmurs. Then a thought occurs to him. “Dean, where am I going to sleep?”

Dean’s eyes widen. “Fuck. I fucked up, didn’t I?”

“Don’t worry, I can sleep on the floor,” Castiel says.

“What? No way. I can sleep on the floor,” Dean says vehemently. “You take my bed.”

Castiel wants to protest, but one look at Dean’s face convinces him there’s no use. Instead, he looks at the bed and squints.

“It’s a big bed, I think we could both fit.”

Dean lets out a weird noise. “Really, Cas? You… wouldn’t mind?”

“I don’t want you to be uncomfortable, Dean, it’s your home,” Castiel says earnestly. Sharing a bed with Dean sounds like the most natural thing in the world right now, and he can’t understand why they’re even discussing it.

“Yeah, but… It’s one bed for the two of us and—”

Castiel takes advantage of the fact that Dean is still gripping his hand and pulls him until they stumble towards the bed and sit down. 

“I don’t mind,” Castiel says quietly and pats the mattress. “Do you?”

“No,” Dean murmurs. “Of course not, Cas.”

“Come on, then,” Castiel says, kicks off his shoes, and climbs onto the bed. It’s soft and warm beneath his hands and he can’t wait to lay his head down on the pillows. 

“Don’t you wanna take a shower or—”

“Let’s not wake your brother,” Castiel murmurs. He finally plops down onto the mattress and lets out a pleased sigh when his head hits the pillow. “We can do it tomorrow,” he mumbles sleepily.

Dean says something, but Castiel can barely hear him now. The mattress dips and shakes when Dean lies down, and then something warm covers Castiel up to his shoulders. He opens his eyes and notices the blanket Dean covered them with. He meets Dean’s eyes.

“Goodnight, Dean,” he mumbles and slowly lets go of his hand.

He doesn’t see Dean’s smile because he closes his eyes, but it sounds as if Dean is smiling anyway when he answers, “Night, Cas,” and goes quiet.

***

Before he even opens his eyes the next morning, Castiel knows he feels horrible. He’s still tired, there’s a nasty taste in his mouth, and his head is heavy and pounding with a dull ache that spreads from the back and across his temples, almost making his eyes water. He has read about the signs of a hangover and he realises this is what he’s feeling, but the knowledge doesn’t help in the slightest. 

After a few more minutes, he finally forces himself to open his eyes slowly. Fortunately, the light is dim inside the apartment, the sky visible through the window grey and heavy with clouds. It’s quiet, Dean clearly still fast asleep where he’s lying right beside him. Castiel spends a moment just looking at him, amazed by the softness of his eyelashes against his cheeks, by the way he breathes quietly through his half-open lips, by the healthy flush on his skin.

It takes Castiel a few seconds to realise his scarf has slipped off his face during the night, his face clearly visible to everyone who looks at him. Panic swells inside him and he immediately scrambles to grab the scarf and yank it over his nose — and in the same moment, he hears footsteps from the bathroom back to the room.

Apparently, Sam is awake.

Castiel freezes in the bed. Sam, Dean’s younger brother, who probably has a key to Dean’s apartment, judging from the way he let himself in last night, even when Dean was out. Sam, who feels free enough to walk around the apartment when Dean sleeps, to use his bathroom and his kitchen and his couch. Sam, who has probably wandered over to Dean’s bed to see if his brother is even there — and who must have seen Castiel there with him.

He must have seen Castiel’s face.

Castiel doesn’t know what to do. He can still hear Sam and he can see no way of sneaking out of the apartment without being noticed. If he waits for Dean to wake up, they will end up talking with Sam, and Castiel is terrified of Sam telling Dean everything. It seems that the best option would be to go and face Sam alone, as soon as possible.

Castiel can’t move, though, and continues fretting over everything for so long that finally Dean starts to stir beside him. Castiel gulps, turns to look at him, and immediately meets Dean’s sleepy gaze.

Dean smiles. “Hi,” he mumbles.

Castiel opens his mouth, but can’t answer. Instead, he sits up on the bed and hides his face in his hands.

“Cas?” Dean asks, voice more clear now. “What—”

“I need to go,” Castiel murmurs. Maybe if he pretends everything is fine and doesn’t stay to talk to Sam, everything will be fine. Or as fine as it can be.

“Go… where? You’re not working today, are you?” Dean asks. Castiel feels him sit up, as well, and then there’s a hesitant hand touching his shoulder.

Castiel flinches away. “I just need to leave, now,” he says hastily and clambers off the bed. He can hear Dean trying to say something, but then Sam must notice or hear them because he jumps off the couch and heads over to them, calling Dean’s name happily.

Castiel doesn’t stop to think about it. He looks down at himself, noticing he’s still dressed in his clothes from yesterday, and then he rushes past Sam, head low. 

“Cas!” Dean calls after him.

Castiel doesn’t answer, just grabs the backpack that’s still sitting near the couch, and then leaves the apartment without another look in Dean’s direction.


	7. CHAPTER 6

## chapter six

From Meg’s pull-out couch, Castiel calls Balthazar so many times that he finally picks up.

“Hellooooo,” Balthazar rasps into the phone and Castiel needs to move away for a second. When he puts it back to his ear, Balthazar is mumbling something, quite incoherently.

“Balthazar,” Castiel says harshly. “Can you hear me?”

“Oh. Who is this?” Balthazar asks. 

“It’s Castiel. Where are you?”

“Castiel… Castiel! Hello, Cassie!”

Castiel winces. “Are you drunk?”

It’s quiet on the phone for a moment, and then Balthazar snorts a laugh. “Hell yes I am, my dear Castiel.”

“It’s five in the afternoon.”

“Ah, yes. The party started last night and it’s still not over. How are things with you, my dear?”

Castiel rubs a hand over his forehead. “I’ve been better. Balthazar, I’d hate to pull you out of your party,” he says with a hint of sarcasm, “but I think I need your help.”

“Of course,” Balthazar slurs. “I’ll do anything for you.”

“Really,” Castiel deadpans. “Where were you for the last month, then? You were supposed to contact me and you never did.”

“Oh,” Balthazar murmurs. “You’re right, my apologies. I was a bit busy.”

“I can see that,” Castiel mumbles. 

“But you’re still alive, that’s what counts, right? How are you?”

“You’ve already asked this,” Castiel says. “Balthazar, please listen to me for a moment.”

“Talk, my dear. I’m aaaaaaaall ears.”

Castiel heaves a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose, just where the skin wrinkles and turns into a snout. 

“Will you be able to drive me back home?”

***

If he were a character in a book, Castiel would immediately call himself a coward and wouldn’t even bother reading on. 

Two days after fleeing Dean’s apartment, Castiel finds himself back at the bar behind the counter on what he assumes will be his last shift. He hasn’t talked to Benjamin or anyone else yet, but he doesn’t think he will. When Balthazar shows, Castiel will try to explain everything and ask him, one more time, to give up and drive him home.

Castiel is afraid. Dean is his friend, yes, but he has also most likely never seen anything quite like Castiel before. Admittedly, he probably didn’t see Castiel that morning, but Castiel is sure Sam did, and he’s a hundred percent certain Sam would tell Dean about everything. They seem quite close.

Dean is his friend and he is kind and good, but Castiel still frets everything will change now that he knows the truth. Meg didn’t ask any questions when he appeared at the bar last morning and asked her if he could spend a night or two in her apartment — but she kept sneaking suspicious glances at him and even asked if he would sleep with his scarf on at night. The fear of other people knowing about Castiel’s curse is rooted deep within him, thanks to his parents and their constant anxiety over it. 

He feels uneasy, and it must show on his face because at least three different people have already commented on the paleness of his face — or the part of it they can see. One proposed he takes off the scarf if he feels too hot, and Castiel needed a minute to go to the backroom and calm down.

Maybe everything will be better when he goes back home. Maybe he’ll finally behave and find a person that can marry him and lift the curse.

Maybe then everything will stop being so complicated. 

Balthazar promised to visit and talk to him about everything, but he didn’t say he would drive him back to Greenwich, so Castiel spends most of the morning practising a speech in his head and thinking of other viable options. He doesn't have enough money to rent a cab that could take him to another state. He has no idea if he could even afford a train or a plane ticket. If everything else fails, he thinks, he can try asking for money, promising to send it back as soon as he’s with his family again. 

All of those thoughts make his head hurt, so he tries to avoid them and concentrate on the tasks at hand. He serves drinks, takes orders, and tries to minimize the time he spends talking with people. He also keeps glancing towards the doors, both impatient to see Balthazar and worried he might see Dean.

He’s turned away from the bar, busy doing the dishes, when an excited voice calls out his name. He turns and immediately notices Balthazar standing right in front of him.

“Castiel,” Balthazar repeats, smiling widely. “Good to see you, my friend.”

“Finally,” Castiel mutters and dries his hands on the towel, scowling up at Balthazar. “What took you so long?”

Balthazar huffs out a laugh. “Look at you, all grumpy and uncouth. The city has taught you well, I see.”

“There’s no time for that,” Castiel says. “Give me a second.”

He leaves Balthazar and goes over to Billie who’s standing idly at the other side of the counter, eyes stuck to her phone. She looks up when he hears him and raises her eyebrows.

“Billie, would you mind if I took a short break? My friend is here and I need to talk to him for a moment,” Castiel says, gesturing towards Balthazar.

Billie eyes Balthazar thoughtfully, then looks back at Castiel and narrows her eyes. “Talk about what?”

Castiel stiffens. “I’m sorry, Billie, but this is personal.”

“You realise you shouldn’t take care of personal business while you work, don’t you?”

Castiel scowls at her. “Kind of like you’re doing right now?” he asks, trying not to sound too annoyed and failing. He nods towards the phone in Billie’s hands.

Billie eyes him for a moment longer, then smirks. “Guess you caught me there, kid. Alright. Take five if you need.”

“I’m going to need more than five minutes, but thank you,” Castiel says and walks away before Billie can answer. He waves at Balthazar and leads him to one of the booths. The bar is quite empty at this early hour of the afternoon and they should be able to discuss everything here safely.

“Castiel, dear, you seem tense,” Balthazar comments when they slide into the booth.

Castiel lets out a sigh. “I… I am tense.” He lets his head hang for a moment, trying to remember the speech he’s prepared. “Something happened, Balthazar, something I feel threatened by, and I think it’s time for me to go back home and do what I’m supposed to do instead of wasting my time here.”

Balthazar stares at him. “Uh… Like what?” he asks. “Like let your mother choose you a boyfriend and then get married to the first person that doesn’t behave like a total ass?”

Castiel looks away. “I need to do this. You know I do.”

“And you know I don’t believe in all this bollocks about the curse,” Balthazar says, voice suddenly serious. “And I thought you didn’t, either.”

“It’s the only way,” Castiel mutters. “Otherwise I will have to spend my whole time looking… like this,” he says, staring down at the table.

“Castiel,” Balthazar says. “Did someone say something about you? Is that why you’re suddenly so eager to go back to mommy?”

“No,” Castiel says. “No one said anything, yet. But, Balthazar, can’t you understand? It’s only a matter of time. I don’t know what I was thinking, coming here. I can’t live like this. People get suspicious, people stare at me and demand answers and I… can’t give them. I just can’t.”

“And why not?” Balthazar hisses. He leans over the table, forcing Castiel to look at him. “Why not, Castiel? What do you think people would do if they saw the real you?”

Castiel lets out a dry laugh. “Scream, probably. Hit me. Maybe run away.”

“Hit you?” Balthazar repeats loudly. “Did someone dare to—”

“No, no,” Castiel hushes him. “No one— I’m fine, Balthazar. I haven’t shown _it_ to anyone, and I don’t intend to. People aren’t ready for this.”

“Castiel…”

“Balthazar, please,” Castiel says quietly. “I don’t feel comfortable here anymore. It’s exhausting, living like this.” He only exaggerates a little bit — it wasn’t exhausting until the last few days, but Balthazar doesn’t need to know that. “Maybe one day I can come back.”

“One day.” Balthazar’s voice is flat. “What, once you ‘break the curse’?”

Castiel lifts his head to glare at him. “Maybe you don’t believe in the curse but I don’t have a choice. It’s either that, or I’m going to stay looking like a p… like _this_ forever,” he snaps.

Balthazar sighs. “And what exactly is wrong with—”

“It’s not _you_ that has to live with this,” Castiel growls, leaning towards him. “ _You_ didn’t grow up hearing about how _unattractive_ your face was, how you _needed_ to find someone as quickly as possible to even consider feeling comfortable in your own skin. You didn’t—”

“Okay,” Balthazar interrupts, holding up his hands. “Alright. I get it.”

Castiel continues to glare at him. “Don’t you dare tell me how I’m supposed to feel about my own appearance.”

“Still,” Balthazar suggest, “the curse is—”

Castiel shakes his head violently. “Don’t. Please, just don’t.”

Balthazar lets out another sigh and looks up to the ceiling. “ _Fine_. What do you want me to do, then?”

“I told you,” Castiel says quietly. “Take me home.”

To his surprise, Balthazar stands up. “Whatever you want. I will take you home if that’s what you really want.”

Castiel swallows. “It is.”

“Very well,” Balthazar responds. “Today?”

“Please,” Castiel murmurs and drops his eyes down to the table. 

“Give me a moment to call my friends to tell them I will be driving out of the city for a bit. I’ll be back in a few.”

He leaves Castiel in the booth, already pressing his phone to his ear and stepping out of the bar. Castiel rubs his face with both hands and stays sitting like that until he hears someone take Balthazar’s seat. He looks up, surprised he managed to organise everything so quickly, and freezes.

It’s not Balthazar sitting in front of him, it’s Dean.

His hands fall from his face with a dull thud. They stare at each other for a short moment, Castiel’s head completely empty of excuses he could use, and then Dean speaks up.

“You’re leaving?”

Castiel’s heart feels as if it’s about to jump out of his chest, but he manages to keep his voice flat.

“How do you know?”

Dean smiles, but there’s something wrong with this smile. It lacks any real humour. “I wasn’t spying on you, I didn’t even know you were here at first.” He points to the booth right behind Castiel, and when Castiel turns, he immediately notices two glasses of beer and a tall young man sitting there and looking their way.

Face hot, Castiel looks back at Dean.

“Is that Sam?” he asks quietly.

“It is,” Dean says. “And who was your friend?”

Castiel looks down, trying to hide his face from Deans’ inquiring gaze as he tries to remember if he mentioned anything serious in his conversation with Balthazar. He is quite sure they both tried to stay vague, but it’s difficult to judge now. 

He can feel Dean still looking at him, so he lifts his head and shrugs with much more composure than he feels.

“Balthazar,” he answers. 

Dean nods. “So. Are you really leaving?”

Castiel looks away. Dean’s face stays mostly calm, but there’s something in his expression that makes Castiel’s insides twist uneasily. 

“Yes, Dean. I’m leaving New York.”

“Why?” Dean’s voice is flat, almost cold.

Castiel closes his eyes. “It’s— personal. I’m sorry, Dean, I can’t—”

“And what was all that shit about the curse, Cas?” Dean asks suddenly. He sounds irritated. “Who is this Balthazar?”

“I told you about him,” Castiel says.

“Yeah, you told me your mom wanted you to marry him. She almost _forced_ you to do this. Do you even know this guy?”

Castiel turns to glare at him. “Yes, Dean, I do know him. And he’s taking me home.”

Dean flinches as if Castiel has hit him. “Just consider this, Cas. You tried contacting him for so long and he didn’t even bother picking up. And now he’s here all of a sudden, talking about some curse or something, and—”

“He wasn't the only one talking about it,” Castiel snaps. “And I’m sorry, but this isn’t something I want to discuss with you.”

It hurts, being so cold towards Dean, especially when it seems Dean is worried about him for some reason, but Castiel has no other option. Even if Sam didn’t tell Dean about him, it’s only a matter of time before someone discovers the truth. Castiel wasn’t completely lying. Living here, in the city, without any chance of finding someone of his own kind to fall in love with him, is not going to end well. It can only end in screams and tears and unbroken curses.

When Castiel looks back up at Dean, Dean doesn’t look angry anymore. Instead, he looks hurt.

“So you can talk about it with a guy you’ve known for a few days before you both ran away from home,” Dean says quietly, “but you can’t talk about it with me?”

“Dean—”

“I thought we were friends, Cas,” Dean says. “I thought you knew I was your friend.”

Castiel shakes his head. “I’m sorry, Dean. It’s not your fault, but I just—”

“You don’t trust me,” Dean says. “I tried to be patient, Cas, you know? But it’s hard. It’s hard when the best friend you’ve probably ever had doesn’t consider you close enough to share something this important with you.”

Castiel stares at Dean, eyes widening. Dean lets out a mirthless laugh.

“The curse, Cas? I don’t have any idea what this means, but I’m not completely dumb. The curse, the scarf you insist on wearing, the way you talked about yourself with Balthazar. I don’t understand everything, but I understand enough.”

“Castiel?” Suddenly, Balthazar is standing right beside their booth, glancing between Dean and Castiel. “What’s going on? Who’s this?”

Dean spares one look at Balthazar, sighs, and stands up. “As I said, Cas, I would never force you to do anything. I just thought— well. I thought wrong.” He raises his hand as if he wants to wave at him, then grimaces. “See you, Cas.”

Castiel watches, numb, as Dean gestures at Sam and they both immediately leave the bar. He’s unaware of his surroundings, Dean’s words floating around his head. Does Dean know about him or not? Castiel has no idea, and he didn’t take his chance to ask Dean about it. Now, Dean’s gone and Castiel is about to leave the city and it’s possible they will never see each other again.

It’s confusing, everything’s too confusing. Castiel lets out a low sound and hides his face between his arms. It takes Balthazar at least a minute to force him to look up.

“Who was that, Castiel? Talk to me,” Balthazar says.

“Dean,” Castiel mumbles dully. “That was Dean.”

“Dean who?”

“My friend.” Castiel leans his head on his hand. “I lived with him for a few days, after I ran out of money for the hotel. Two nights ago, his brother came to his apartment while we were out drinking, and he took the couch, so I had to sleep in Dean’s bed, but then I woke up without my scarf, and he was awake, and he must have seen it, I’m sure he did, and I was sure he’d tell Dean, but now… now I’m not so sure…”

“Castiel—”

“And yet, Dean heard us, just now, and he knows I want to leave and he’s worried about me, but he’s also heard about the curse and I think… I think he must have realised this has something to do with… with my face. And I… I don’t know what—”

“Castiel,” Balthazar says harshly. “Dean is your friend?”

Castiel blinks slowly. “Yes,” he says. Even if Dean is currently angry at him, Castiel still considers him a good friend. And, despite what Dean might say, he trusts him.

“And you lived with him?” Balthazar asks. “For a few days?”

“Yes. What does this have to do with—”

“And you never told him about the curse, I gather,” Balthazar says, “and he never asked?”

“Once,” Castiel mutters. “He asked once, but I told him I didn’t want to talk about it and he didn’t ask again.”

Balthazar lets out a heavy sigh and sits back in his seat. “Jesus, Castiel.”

Castiel stares at him. “What, Balthazar? What?”

Balthazar shakes his head, clearly perplexed. “Why don’t you just _tell him_ the truth, you dummy? He obviously cares about you!”

Castiel groans. “I can’t, you know I can’t—”

“And why not? Pray tell, dear Castiel, because I’m failing to see your logic here.”

“Because— Because I don’t want him to see me,” Castiel says quietly. “Because you know what happens when I show people my face.”

“Listen. I know you’ve met your deal of crappy people, alright? I know. But remember when you met me?” When Castiel looks up and nods, Balthazar grins. “Exactly. If I remember correctly, I was pretty fine with all of that, wasn’t I? I didn’t scream, I didn’t run away. I even agreed to bloody marry you.”

Castiel sighs. “You were different.”

“I know,” Balthazar says. “I’m special. But who says Dean isn’t special, too? Hm? Do you think Dean is a crappy person?”

Castiel stares at him. “Of course not,” he says quickly.

“Well, then. Don’t you trust him?”

Castiel sighs. “I trust him.”

“So why on earth don’t you just _talk_ to him like a normal freaking human being instead of running away?”

Castiel spends a few long seconds just staring at Balthazar, and then he jumps out of the booth and, ignoring Billie’s shouts after him, runs out of the bar.

It’s a good thing he knows exactly where Dean lives.

***

Castiel realises it’s raining only when he steps into a puddle and sends a spray of water all around and over himself. He ignores it, though, and doesn’t slow down until he reaches Dean’s building and climbs all the stairs up to his apartment.

He knocks loudly, trying to calm his breathing and wiping the rain from his eyes. The scarf stays safely over his face and he uses its end to dry his hair a little as he waits.

Then, the door opens and Castiel looks up to see Sam’s tall figure.

“Hello,” he pants. “Is Dean—”

“Are you Cas?” Sam asks, eyes narrowed. 

Castiel nods and opens his mouth to ask again, but then Sam is stepping out of the apartment and patting Castiel’s shoulder. 

“Come on in, then. I’ll leave you guys alone,” Sam says, and then he’s gone.

Castiel stares after him for a moment, and then he hears Dean’s voice from inside. He takes a deep breath, steps inside, and closes the door behind himself.

Dean looks up from where he’s sitting on the couch, Pie’s fluffy form snuggled up against his stomach. 

“Cas?” he asks.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel says quietly. He doesn’t move from where he’s standing, right near the door, in case Dean tells him to go away. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

Dean puts the bunny down on the couch and stands up, keeping his eyes on Castiel.

“Were you running?” he asks and squints as he comes closer.

Castiel looks down. He’s still breathing hard. “Yes. I wasn’t sure you would be here and I wanted— I wanted to catch you. And talk to you.”

“Talk to me,” Dean repeats slowly. “About what?”

“About the curse,” Castiel answers immediately. There’s no point stretching it out unnecessarily, especially if it turns out Dean does know something. “And about myself.”

Dean doesn’t answer, and when Castiel looks up again, he sees Dean standing a few feet away from him, face carefully blank and arms crossed over his broad chest.

“Go on, then,” he says. “I’m all ears.”

Castiel gulps. It’s now or never. “I’ve told you about my family,” he says slowly, eyes drifting back to the floor. 

“Yeah,” Dean says. “You’re rich and a bit stuck-up and still believe in arranged marriages. What about them?”

Castiel lets out a quiet laugh. “There’s a reason my parents want me to marry someone.”

“Let me guess,” Dean says. “The curse?”

Castiel glances at him. “You know?”

“I’ve seen movies, Cas.” Dean shrugs. “Is it the true love shit? You’re cursed somehow and you won’t be able to break it until you get your true love’s kiss or something?”

Dean sounds nonchalant, and Castiel winces, suddenly discouraged to tell him more. But when he looks up, Dean’s face isn’t so blank anymore. He tries to cover it up when he meets Castiel’s eyes, but the worry and curiosity are still visible in his eyes.

“My family was cursed a long time ago,” Castiel explains slowly. “A firstborn son refused to offer an old witch food and shelter and she cursed us. The curse would fall unto every firstborn son born in our family. We were lucky for many generations — but then I was born.”

“Ah. You don’t have siblings, do you,” Dean says.

“No,” Castiel murmurs.

“So you’re cursed.”

Castiel can only nod.

“And what is that curse, Cas?”

“Can’t you guess?” Castiel whispers. He isn’t looking up anymore, unable to meet Dean’s eyes. This feels a little like all those times he had to reveal himself to his potential suitors, and yet it doesn’t feel anything like it. The nerves are here, but they’re a thousand times stronger, and the mere thought of Dean reacting badly to what he will see makes Castiel’s entire body hurt and tears gather in his eyes.

He can hear Dean stepping closer, slow and careful. “Is your chin really that bad?” Dean jokes.

Castiel closes his eyes and feels a tear slide down his cheek and disappear into the scarf.

“Cas,” Dean whispers, so soft and reassuring that Castiel wants nothing more than to run towards him and hide in Dean’s arms. 

He can’t, though, not now, when Dean is about to see the real him.

“Cas,” Dean repeats. “You don’t have to show me. I’m sorry I pushed you. I don’t want you to—”

“Please, Dean,” Castiel whispers without opening his eyes. “Do it.”

“Are you sure?” Dean asks. “I don’t need to see it. I don’t want you to hurt, okay, Cas? I never wanted that.”

“It’s too late,” Castiel says.

“Fuck, Cas.” Dean is right there in front of him, Castiel can feel him. He’s warm and careful, and he touches Castiel’s arm hesitantly, but doesn’t move to touch the scarf. “I’m sorry. I really don’t have to—”

Castiel lifts his head and looks at him. “Dean. Just take it off.”

They stare at each other for a long time, Dean’s hand soft on Castiel’s arm, his thumb pressing gentle circles into the fabric of his shirt. Dean’s eyes flicker down to Castiel’s scarf, then back up to his eyes.

“Are you sure?” he repeats.

Instead of answering, Castiel raises his own hands and starts to unwrap the scarf. Dean’s eyes widen as he steps even closer, and gently catches Castiel’s hands.

“Let me,” he whispers.

Castiel’s arms fall down to hang by his sides as he waits for Dean to finally act. When he does, it’s with his eyes locked on Castiel’s and his hands sure where he touches the scarf.

The scarf falls down Castiel’s arms and gathers around his feet. Dean looks at him, really looks at him for the first time, and Castiel stops breathing.

Dean doesn’t say anything for a moment, and Castiel is about to ask him what he thinks, or maybe turn away and leave — but then Dean lifts his hand again and slowly touches Castiel’s jaw.

“Dean,” Castiel breathes out.

Dean isn’t screaming. He’s not running away. But he’s also not saying anything.

“Dean, please. Just say something,” Castiel begs.

Dean meets his eyes. His palm stays pressed against Castiel’s jaw. “It’s fine, Cas. I swear.”

“It’s fine?” Castiel repeats dumbly. “What— what do you think, then? Does it look—”

“Cas,” Dean says, and, for some reason, he’s smiling, “is this what you’ve been hiding for all this time?”

Castiel gulps. “Y-yes. Yes, of course, Dean. And please don’t try to tell me it looks normal or ordinary or _okay_. I know it doesn’t. I have seen myself in the mirror—”

“Well, no,” Dean says. He moves his hand and lets it hover over Castiel’s nose for a moment, but he doesn’t touch. Castiel is glad. “It doesn’t look normal, obviously. But it’s not something you should be hiding.”

“It’s not?” Castiel repeats nervously. “Dean. I have a pig’s nose.”

Dean smiles fully. “Yeah. And it’s very cute.”

“What?” Castiel steps back so suddenly, Dean looks taken aback. “ _Cute_?”

“Yeah,” Dean says, surprised. “You said you’ve seen yourself in a mirror. Do you really think you look _ugly_ , Cas?”

Castiel blinks. “I’m certainly not what you’d call attractive.”

“Says who?” Dean frowns.

“Says everyone,” Castiel grunts. “Says every person that I’ve met and shown myself to. Says my mom.”

“Your mom told you you’re not attractive?” Dean asks, astonished. “Just because of your _nose_?”

Castiel looks away. “I look like a pig.”

“No,” Dean says. He takes a step towards Castiel again. “You look like a person with a cute, funny nose. It’s not entirely human, but it’s also not exactly a real pig’s nose, Cas. Come on, you’ve must have seen it…”

“I know how I look, Dean,” Castiel grumbles.

“Clearly, you don’t,” Dean says. “Or you don’t realise you look fine. More than fine.”

“If you call me ‘cute’ again, I will bite you.”

That pulls a laugh out of Dean. “What, you’re telling me you have fangs too or something?”

Castiel stares stubbornly at the floor. “I might.”

Dean chuckles. “That’s adorable.”

“Dean…” Castiel glares at Dean, who takes this opportunity to reach out and poke at Castiel’s nose with his finger, softly, but without hesitation. Castiel yelps and stumbles back.

“Shit,” Dean says, eyes wide. “Sorry. You okay?”

“I— I just.” Castiel raises his hand and tentatively touches his nose. It feels exactly the same as it always has, but also a bit different. As if Dean’s touch changed it somehow. “No one has ever—”

“I swear, Cas,” Dean says. “You look fine. More than fine. Uh. You know what I mean.”

Castiel squints at him, watching as Dean’s face flushes pink. “You think I look alright?” 

“Of course, Cas,” Dean says. “I don’t know what other people must have said to you, but they were assholes.”

“They usually ran away screaming,” Castiel explains.

Dean frowns. “Seriously? Wow. Assholes.”

Castiel hums. “They weren’t nice, that’s true.”

“And your mom?” Dean asks. “Did she really tell you look… you know… not okay? Just because of your nose?”

Castiel shrugs. “She believes in the curse. She wants what’s the best for me.”

“And do you? Believe in it, really believe?”

“I don’t know,” Castiel sighs. “Sometimes I do. It would be much easier if I didn’t look like this.” He can see Dean wants to say something, probably protest, so he continues. “But mostly I feel that it doesn’t matter if the curse is real or not because I will never be able to find anyone who can… love me and accept me exactly the way I am.”

Dean’s face stays blank. “Why not?”

Castiel shrugs again. “Because I’m twenty-six and I’ve never met anyone like that.”

“Yeah,” Dean says. “But you lived holed up in your huge house and only met assholes your mom sent your way. Do you think people find the loves of their lives that way?” When Castiel doesn’t answer, he chuckles. “Let me tell you, they don’t. They live among other people, interact with them, get to know them. It’s hard to love someone at first sight, alright? That usually happens in movies, and rarely in real life. But once you get to know each other… who knows. I’m sure you can still meet someone if you stay here.”

Castiel lets out a sigh. “But I can’t just walk around the city looking like this,” he says quietly.

“Yeah, I know,” Dean says with another chuckle. “You can always wait for a month, then run dramatically after them, _in the rain_ , and reveal yourself to them. Pretty sure it’d work.”

Castiel looks at Dean carefully, looking for signs of real teasing, but finding none. Dean is staring back at him, a soft smile on his lips and something unreadable but warm in his eyes. 

Castiel nods, and then smiles back.

Dean seems to visibly deflate, letting out a breath and grinning. “Okay, then. Now, that we’ve gotten this over with, why don’t you really come in, sit your butt on the couch, and let me make you some tea. You’re shivering, man, and your clothes are all wet. I still can't believe you just _rushed_ after me in that rain—”

Castiel smiles again and follows Dean inside. The scarf stays on the floor where it fell.


	8. CHAPTER 7

## chapter seven

It’s strange, walking around Dean’s apartment without the scarf. Strange, and freeing.

After Dean convinces Castiel to go back to living with him until he manages to save enough money to rent his own place, Castiel says a vague goodbye to Meg, sends Balthazar a text explaining his situation, and moves in. This time, Dean actually ends up offering him an empty drawer where he can keep his things. Castiel smiles to himself, only a bit hesitant, when he hangs the blue scarf on the hook right beside his coat. Dean must notice it anyway, because he grins at him.

Sam is still visiting, at least for two more days, so Castiel is careful to remember about the scarf when Dean’s brother is said to be coming back to the apartment. There is a possibility Sam would accept him, just the way Dean has, but Castiel is still too unsure to reveal himself like that.

That evening, after Dean helps Castiel retrieve his things, they make dinner and end up watching more movies on Dean’s couch. Sam texts Dean when he’s on his way back, and Castiel scrambles to wrap the scarf around himself as Dean watches.

“He’d be okay with it, you know,” Dean says.

Castiel shrugs. “Maybe. But I’d rather not risk it, if you don’t mind.”

Dean stands up and squeezes Castiel’s shoulder. “Of course I don’t. Do whatever you need, Cas.”

When Sam appears, the three of them eat dinner leftovers and watch one more movie. By midnight, Sam is yawning and Dean’s lazily typing on his phone instead of watching. Castiel gets up, turns off the TV, and offers to do the dishes. Both Dean and Castiel are working the next day, so they agree on sharing the bed yet again so that they don’t disturb Sam in the morning while he sleeps alone on the couch. There’s a weird, fuzzy feeling in Castiel’s stomach when he settles down on the bed next to Dean, and it has a lot to do with the fact that he can let the scarf slip off in the dark, and a little to do with Dean breathing softly right next to him. He falls asleep feeling safe and relaxed in a way he hasn’t felt in a long, long time.

In the early morning, he’s woken up by Pie sniffing against his face. He grumbles and tries to push the bunny off, and then hears Dean’s quiet laugh nearby. He rolls over to face his friend.

“Hi,” Dean says with a wide smile. He looks like he has just woken up too, his face a little flushed and his hair sleep-mused. 

“Good morning, Dean,” Castiel murmurs. He realises his hand is moving of its own volition, as if it wants to touch Dean, and he stops it at the last moment, raising it and rubbing at his own face instead.

“Sleep well?” Dean asks.

“Very.”

“Me too,” Dean says with a smile. He clears his throat then. “Sam is leaving today, so we won’t have to share anymore. Just so you know.”

“Oh.” Castiel catches Pie as he’s burrowing in the blanket between them and pulls him to himself. The bunny snuggles against him eagerly. “Okay.”

“Unless… You don’t wanna sleep on the couch,” Dean says hesitantly.

“I admit your bed is much more comfortable than your couch,” Castiel says, and for some reason, he has trouble meeting Dean’s eyes. He doesn’t miss Dean’s loud intake of breath, though.

“We can… we can keep sharing. I don’t mind. I swear. As long as you don’t, either, of course.”

“No,” Castiel mutters, still keeping his eyes on the bunny. “I like sleeping here with you.”

There’s a weird, warm feeling in his chest, spreading down to his stomach. The mere thought of being so close to Dean during the night is making his body tingle and his head spin. He has never felt anything like this before and he has no idea how to interpret it. Is he getting sick?

Soon, Dean’s phone reminds them they need to get up and get ready for work. They keep quiet, trying not to wake Sam, and only exchange a few words as they prepare for the day. Before they go out, Dean pushes a brown bag into Castiel’s hands.

“What’s that?” Castiel whispers curiously.

Dean’s hand stops him before he can open the bag and peer inside. “It’s lunch. For you.”

“You made me lunch?” Castiel asks and stares up at Dean in wonderment. Even his own mother has never prepared him lunch before in his life.

“It’s just a sandwich, don’t get your hopes up,” Dean says with a laugh.

Without thinking, Castiel moves forward and wraps his arms around Dean. Dean makes a surprised sound, but lets himself be hugged and draws Castiel even closer.

“Thank you, Dean,” Castiel murmurs.

Dean’s breath is warm against Castiel’s cheek. “You’re welcome, Cas.”

Castiel pulls away and clutches the lunch to his chest. “Have a nice day.”

“Yeah.” Dean’s smile is almost as warm as his body. “You too, buddy.”

***

Castiel’s day _is_ nice — there’s a steady rush at the bar all throughout his shift, the clients are kind and leave him generous tips, and his coworkers barely remember to tease him about Balthazar or Dean. He spends a few minutes talking with Balthazar on the phone and explaining the situation in more detail than his text could convey, and they both agree it’s a good idea for him to stay in New York for more time.

The lunch from Dean includes a delicious ham and cheese sandwich, a chocolate cookie, and a tiny piece of paper with a pig drawing and a smiley face. Castiel spends a minute staring at it, not sure if he should be frowning or feeling happy, and then carefully folds the paper and hides in in the pocket of his pants.

Dean walks into the bar in the middle of Castiel’s shift, dropping off a parcel for Benjamin and stopping to chat for a while and have a glass of freshly-made lemonade. Castiel is too busy to talk to him, though, running around the tables and collecting dirty dishes, and then he has to go to the backroom to find more dish soap. Someone walks in when he’s rummaging through the cabinets, and when he looks over his shoulder, he discovers it’s Dean.

“Dean?” Castiel asks, momentarily forgetting about the soap and walking over to where Dean is standing. “Is something wrong?”

“What? No,” Dean says, shaking his head. “I can see you’re busy so I don’t wanna bother you, but…”

“You’re not bothering me,” Castiel says.

Dean grins. “Cool. I was just thinking we could order something for dinner tonight, if you want? Instead of cooking?”

“I’d like that,” Castiel says.

“Yeah? What would you like?”

Castiel shrugs. “You can choose, Dean. I trust your choices.”

Dean laughs, but he looks pleased. “Okay, then. Is pizza okay?”

Castiel squints at him. It feels as if there’s something Dean’s not telling him — he could order pizza without asking Castiel’s permission, or they could order it together — but he still came to talk with him first. Whatever that is, Castiel thinks he likes it, especially if it means he gets to see Dean in the middle of the day.

“Yes, Dean. Pizza is okay,” he says.

“Alright, then. See you later,” Dean says, smiles again, and then surges forward and catches Castiel in a quick hug. Surprised, Castiel melts against his body for a few seconds before Dean hastily pulls away, waves at him, and walks out of the room.

Castiel spends the rest of his shift thinking about Dean. 

At the end of the day, Dean comes over to pick him up just as Castiel is saying his goodbyes. His coworkers greet Dean and ask him some questions, but Castiel finds he can’t focus on their words, too busy staring at Dean, at the dark leather jacket that hugs his chest, at his wind-swept hair, and his smiling face. He can feel he’s smiling like a lunatic underneath his scarf, but for some reason, he can’t stop. Especially not when Dean catches his eye and winks.

They walk out of the bar, and Dean ushers Castiel towards his motorcycle. By now, he knows what to do, and he doesn’t hesitate before embracing Dean from behind and hiding his face against his jacket. One of Dean’s hands casually drops to Castiel’s when they stop at the red lights, and for a few short seconds, Castiel can feel Dean’s fingers brushing gently against his skin.

When they get to Dean’s apartment, it’s empty and dark, but Dean soon turns on the lights, the TV, and starts talking to Pie, who’s hopping around them happily. They wait for their pizza and Dean brings them beer and snacks before they sit down in front of the TV.

“You know,” Dean says in between one gulp of his beer and another, “I know Sam lives pretty close to me and all, but everytime he visits me and we have a few days of fun, it’s actually… hard to see him go away again.”

Castiel turns to look at him. “I’m sorry, Dean.”

Dean shakes his head with a laugh. “No, that’s not what I meant. What I wanted to say, I always used to come back to an empty apartment, with no one to talk to me after work or to share a pizza and a beer. So… it’s nice. Having you here now, I mean.”

Castiel smiles and Dean, who can see him smiling, smiles back.

***

Falling asleep beside Dean is easy now that Castiel knows they’re alone in the apartment. What’s even easier is waking up and feeling Dean’s arm slung haphazardly around Castiel’s middle.

Castiel lies still for a long moment, breath catching in his throat as he revels in the pleasant heaviness of Dean’s hand on his hip, his face pressed against Castiel’s back, his hot breath that Castiel can feel through the thin t-shirt Dean gave him. Castiel lets out a small sigh, eyes closed and a smile playing on his lips. It feels… _so good_ , to have Dean so close, so warm, so relaxed. Dean stirs behind him, as if sensing Castiel is awake, and his hand tightens over Castiel’s hip, almost possessively. 

Castiel sighs again, louder this time, and is surprised to hear it almost turn into a moan.

He opens his eyes and frowns. Dean is still sound asleep, so Castiel dares to move and slowly rolls out of his grip.

This is when he notices he’s hard in his pants.

“Oh,” he murmurs to himself, staring down at his unwilling erection. It must have happened when he was still asleep and he hasn’t noticed it until now, too busy being cocooned in bed with Dean, overwhelmed by his touch and warmth. Or maybe — and it’s a dangerous thought, but he realises it’s plausible — it happened _because of_ Dean’s proximity. Castiel isn’t a fool, he knows he feels differently around Dean than he does around anyone else, but up until this point he didn’t realise it could be… _this_.

Carefully, he slips out of the bed and towards the bathroom, throwing a glance at Dean over his shoulder. Dean seems to be fast asleep, and there’s still time before they both have to get up for work. Castiel has dealt with this kind of problem in the past, and even though it’s not the most pleasant situation he’s been in, and it usually takes time, he thinks he can be done with it before Dean wakes up.

Once in the bathroom, Castiel sheds his sleep clothes and gets into the shower. The thought of cold water makes him shiver, especially after the warmth of Dean’s bed, but he knows this is what he should do. 

He starts with lukewarm water, though, and stands motionless, staring down at himself and willing his hard-on to go away with just his glare. It’s not so painful anymore, but he needs it to disappear completely before he can go out and meet Dean again. Dean will want to take a shower, as well, he will want to wash away the sleep, probably with hot water, judging from the way he’s always flushed when he comes out of the bathroom. Castiel has only seen him a few times, but so far he’s learned that Dean likes long, hot showers that leave the bathroom steamy and his skin pleasantly reddened.

Castiel’s erection twitches. Frustrated, he wraps a hand around it and tugs.

A surprised sigh falls out of his mouth. His other hand slips on the faucet, turning the water warmer. It splashes against Castiel’s back and makes the skin on his hand slicker as it slowly moves up and down his hardness.

He’s only done this a few times before. He’s seen it in a few movies, too, but it was never something that interested him a lot — and now it’s pulling small and breathy sounds out of him, making his legs wobbly and his head dizzy. Now that he’s started, he doesn’t think he can stop — and yet, he tries to stay as quiet as possible, the thought of Dean in the room right next to him clear in his head.

His skin feels hot, and when he looks down, he notices he’s flushed all across his chest, down to the hardness straining against his stomach. He bites his lips to keep himself from making too much noise, but he can still hear the slick sounds of his hand moving quickly against his skin.

Is this what always makes Dean look so flustered when he leaves the bathroom?

The thought of Dean pulls yet another quiet moan out of Castiel’s mouth. He squeezes his eyes, moves his hand a few more times, and then he’s coming, quick and hot all over his stomach and his hand. 

He takes his time getting out of the shower. His body is relaxed and pliant, and he finds his mood much lighter than when he woke up. Suddenly, he feels this is going to be a very good day.

When he goes out of the bathroom, Dean is already awake and making coffee in the kitchen. Castiel greets him cheerfully and doesn’t miss the way Dean’s eyes sweep up and down his body. He watches Dean himself, too, especially when he stretches his arms above his head, yawns, and heads to the bathroom, his sleep pants hanging low on his hips, feet bare, and smile easy.

Castiel busies himself watching the news on TV and tries not to think too much about Dean in the shower.

***

“Does it hurt?”

“A bit, yeah. Especially the first time. You know, when you’re all still innocent and fresh and all that.”

“It helps when you do it with someone you know and trust. I had my first when I was about fifteen, I think? It hurt, but I was with a friend and it helped.”

“Do you think age matters? I’m twenty-six…”

“Nah, it doesn’t, not in this case. I’m sure you’re gonna be fine.”

“It’s okay to be scared, but it’s important to know you really want to do this. There’s no going back from it, you know?”

“Heeey, guys,” Dean says hesitantly, slipping into the chair in front of the bar. “Do I even want to know what you’re talking about?”

The entire staff of the Churn & Burn turns to him with big smiles and happy cries.

“Tell him, Castiel,” Rowena says and nudges Castiel in the side.

“Tell me what?” Dean asks and turns his confused look at Castiel, who can only smile widely.

“Dean,” he says excitedly. “I’m getting a tattoo!”

“You’re _what_?!” Dean splutters. He leans forward with his elbows on the counter, peering up into Castiel’s face as if Castiel has suddenly grown a second head. 

“I want a tattoo,” Castiel repeats calmly, unperturbed. “Meg recommended her friend who did all of her tattoos. I’m going to get one, too.”

Dean looks around, blinking, but no one says anything, clearly waiting for his reaction. He lets out a heavy sigh.

“Cas, are you sure? You know those things… they’re pretty permanent,” he says slowly.

Meg snorts. “So’s your face, but what can you do?”

“Come on, Dean,” Pamela says. “You know it’s not your call.”

“I know that,” Dean scoffs. He keeps looking at Castiel, as if trying to find hints of doubt on his face, but Castiel looks back without hesitation.

He’s sure of his decision. He’s liked Meg’s tattoos since he first saw them, and he knows he’s got enough money saved for exactly the small tattoo he’s thinking of. The only thing left to talk about is his living arrangement with Dean.

“Dean,” he says out loud, interrupting the discussion. Dean stops in the middle of the sentence and looks at him, eyes wide. “Can we talk?”

Dean nods. “Yeah, sure.”

Castiel points towards the backroom. “It’ll only take a moment,” he says to the rest of his colleagues, then turns on his heel and disappears into the room.

Dean follows close behind and the doors have barely shut behind them when Dean starts talking again.

“Cas, I’m sorry, you know I wasn’t trying to tell you what you can and cannot do. Right? I only—”

Castiel turns to look at him. “Of course, Dean. I understand. And you wouldn’t be able to change my mind, anyway,” he says with a small smile underneath his scarf.

Dean must sense it, though, because he smirks, too. “Yeah? You’re so sure about that?”

“Yes,” Castiel says. “It’s my body, and my decision.”

“I get that,” Dean says. “All I’m saying is, you should really think it through.”

“I have. I know what I want, Dean.”

Dean sighs then, looking resigned but not upset. Then, he smiles and shuffles closer.

“So, may I ask what you’re getting?”

Castiel smiles. He knew Dean wouldn’t be too hard to persuade. 

“I’m still working on the details, but I’m mostly sure now. And I’m not going to tell you.”

“What?” Dean mock-gasps. “Why not?”

“You’ll see it after it’s done,” Castiel says calmly. “You’ll be the first one to see it.”

Dean beams. “I will?”

“Yes.” Castiel shrugs. “But that would probably include you going with me to the studio, unless you don’t—”

“Yeah, Cas,” Dean says quickly, reaching out and gripping Castiel’s arm, a smile wide on his face. “Of course I’ll go with you.”

Castiel smiles up at him. “Thank you, Dean. This means a lot.”

“Same to you, buddy,” Dean murmurs. His hand slides down Castiel’s arm, slowly, almost shyly, fingers brushing against Castiel’s wrist. “I’m happy you asked me.”

Castiel watches, fascinated, as Dean catches one of his hands in his, just for the tiniest of seconds, and squeezes. Castiel’s breath catches in his throat, and when he looks up again, he immediately meets Dean’s eyes. There’s something in those eyes, something more than just ‘yes, I’ll go with you,’ but Castiel isn’t sure how to interpret it. Before he can think of anything, though, the doors behind them open and in bursts Pamela.

“Oops,” she giggles. “Sorry, lovelies. I just needed…”

Dean steps away from Castiel, pulling back his hand and breaking eye contact. “It’s fine. I need to get back to work anyway.”

“Oh no, don’t let me interrupt you!” Pamela says with a wink.

Dean’s face, Castiel notices, has turned pink. “You didn’t— We’re done, aren’t we, Cas?”

“Actually,” Castiel says, reaches out, and grabs Dean’s elbow to stop him from running out of the room. They stop on the threshold, and Castiel can see the rest of the staff looking in their direction, but there’s another important question he needs to ask and it’s hard to concentrate on anything else beside Dean’s eyes on him.

“Yeah?” Dean asks, a little breathless.

“If I do get a tattoo now,” Castiel says awkwardly, “I probably won’t have enough money to rent an apartment for myself, not just yet. I wouldn't want to take advantage of your generosity and I promise I will support you financially in all the ways I can, and I’ll buy food and clean and—”

“Cas,” Dean says with a laugh, “don’t worry about it.”

Castiel blinks. “I haven’t asked you my question yet.”

“Yeah, but I know what it’s gonna be,” Dean says, smiling. “And I’m saying yes. You can stay with me for a little bit longer.”

“I promise I’m going to help,” Castiel rushes. “I can delay getting a tattoo, if that’s what you want, but I—”

“Cas,” Dean repeats, and it’s his turn to catch Castiel’s elbow and squeeze it. “I said I want you to stay with me. Don’t worry about the money.”

Castiel peers into his eyes. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” Dean breathes out with a quiet laugh. “I told you I’m happy you’re there, didn’t I?”

Castiel can feel his cheeks heat up with joy. “Yes, you did.”

“So why are we even having this conversation?” Dean chuckles. His hand stays on Castiel’s arm, warm and strong.

Castiel ignores him, and instead climbs up on his toes to move closer to Dean and whisper, “You know I’m not going back to the couch, right?”

They’re so close, he can distinctly hear Dean’s breath catch in his throat at Castiel’s words. The fingers on Castiel’s arm tighten and pull him closer, gently, almost imperceptibly. 

“I don’t want you to,” he murmurs. He takes a deep breath. “Cas—”

That’s when Pamela chooses to come back from the backroom and almost squishes them with the doors. She gasps, Dean and Castiel pull away from each other, and they all exchange hurried apologies. After that, Dean quickly waves his goodbye and walks out of the bar, leaving a confused Castiel with Pamela who wastes no time in dragging him back to work.

***

There’s a weird energy surrounding Castiel the following day. He wakes up early and can’t go back to sleep, no matter how hard he tries — instead, he stays where he is, face burrowed against Dean’s broad chest, Dean’s arm thrown over Castiel’s middle, Dean’s sleepy breath in Castiel’s hair, their feet touching. It feels wonderful, and he wishes they could stay like this forever. A part of him wishes Dean could wake up, see their position, and let Castiel stay close anyway; maybe he could tighten his embrace, hum sleepily into Castiel’s hair, tell him ‘good morning’ in that raspy voice of his. Another part of him, though, is scared Dean would see them and pull away hastily, and then never want to see Castiel in his apartment again.

After nearly an hour of trying to fall back asleep, though, Castiel gets bored. He carefully disentangles himself from Dean’s grasp and trots to the bathroom. It’s Saturday and neither of them is working today, going to the tattoo studio instead. Castiel knows he still has lots of time, however, and, once in the shower, he only hesitates for a moment before looking down at his half-hard cock and taking it in his hand with a long-suffering sigh.

He comes harder than ever before, his thoughts full of Dean and only Dean. He only feels a little bit guilty and worried after that, but manages to behave as ordinary as possible when he comes out and meets Dean in the kitchen.

“Morning, sunshine,” Dean chirps and passes Castiel the mug full of coffee. “Excited about today?”

Castiel nods soundlessly, trying not to focus too long on Dean’s choice of words. Dean doesn’t seem to notice anything, though, and they eat their breakfast in companionable silence and soon leave the apartment.

It’s not a long way to the tattoo studio, so they don’t take Dean’s bike and decide to walk there instead. The day is warm and sunny, and Castiel wishes he could take the scarf off and easily take in the smell of early autumn… but he can’t. No matter how free he feels around Dean now, it still doesn’t change the fact that the rest of the world isn’t ready for his true look yet.

It probably never will be.

He tries to push down those thoughts as he and Dean walk into the tattoo parlour. It’s a bit murky inside, but Castiel feels surprisingly confident when he talks to the girl at the reception and then follows her behind the dark red curtain to sit in the large armchair. It’s strangely comfortable, and Castiel feels himself relax, despite what is going to happen.

Soon, it turns out, Dean is the opposite. He hovers over Castiel, casting nervous looks at the tattooed woman that prepares to draw on Castiel’s inner arm. He’s vibrating with worry, so Castiel looks up and sends him a soothing look.

“How are you so calm?” Dean asks with a short laugh.

Castiel shrugs. “People do this everyday. I know it’s gonna be fine.”

Dean laughs again, shaking his head. “Okay. I won’t need to hold your hand, then. Good.”

Castiel smiles to himself. “Not unless you want.”

Dean looks at him, smiling, then reaches out and slides his hand into Castiel’s.

“Scream if you need to,” he says with a grin and a light flush on his face.

Castiel doesn’t scream throughout the entire procedure, but Dean’s hand stays clasped around his anyway.

***

The small white bandage is doing its job, but Castiel can still feel a gentle sting in the place where he knows the tiny black bee is hidden beneath it — and it makes something swell in his heart. He did it. It was his first real autonomous decision — no one made him do it, no one even suggested it or needed to persuade him. He was the one to come up with it, and it happened solely because he _really_ wanted it to happen.

It’s so liberating.

“I wish I could see my parents’ faces,” he says to Dean as they make their way to the bar. Castiel needs to show his new tattoo to _everyone_. 

Dean laughs. “I bet they’d be thrilled.”

“They’d be scandalised,” Castiel says joyfully. “They’d try to convince me to get it removed.”

“Maybe it’s for the best they _can’t_ see you now, then,” Dean says. “It’s pretty. I don’t want to see it gone.”

Castiel meets Dean’s eyes and smiles, and he knows Dean can see it even despite the scarf. They look at each other probably for a bit longer than they should, and Castiel’s hand tingles where it touched Dean’s not so long ago. The warmth in Dean’s gaze makes Castiel want to slide closer to him and take hold of his hand again — but they’re in the middle of the street, and they’ll soon reach the bar, so Castiel refrains with a quiet sigh.

He still imagines it, though.

It’s the middle of Saturday, and the bar is crowded and loud when they come in. Castiel immediately heads towards the counter where most of the staff is, Dean following closely behind. When Castiel gently lifts off the bandage to show the tattoo, everyone gathers around him to see and praise it. He beams, happy, and accepts the congratulatory beer and peanuts that Pamela pushes into his hands. 

Dean sits down beside him at the counter and they spend a few carefree moments chatting with Benny and Gadreel. It seems neither Dean nor Castiel are in any hurry to leave the bar and go back to Dean’s apartment, and Castiel isn’t complaining. He feels light and happy and amazing with all of his friends at his side and a gentle burn on his arm.

Halfway through his beer, he excuses himself and goes to the bathroom. He takes a moment to peer underneath the bandage again — but the bee is still there, still free and pretty with her fuzzy body and long feelers. 

Castiel is distracted when he comes back to the counter, and accidentally bumps into someone on his way. He mumbles a quiet apology, but then a strong hand lands on his elbow and stops him from moving. 

“It’s you,” someone says. Castiel looks up, confused, and his breath hitches when he recognises Bartholomew — the one that a few weeks ago fled from his room, screaming, upon seeing his face. “Finally. I’ve been waiting for you, Castiel.”

It all happens so quickly that Castiel has no chance to react. Bartholomew reaches out, grabs Castiel’s scarf, and tugs it down brutally.

Castiel’s mouth falls open in a soundless cry, and he suddenly notices something in Bartholomew's hand — something black and small, something that lets out a loud ‘click’ and flashes a light in Castiel’s eyes, blinding him for a few seconds.

A phone.

Bartholomew has just taken a picture of him while he wasn’t wearing the scarf.

Castiel covers his face with one hand, all the while keeping his wide, scared eyes on Bartholomew’s smirking face, and quickly tugs the scarf back over his face again. He’s quite sure no one noticed anything, but his heart is still hammering in his chest — and he _knows_ Bartholomew still has the photo.

“Thank you, my dear,” Bartholomew says with an evil smile. “I promise I’ll make good use of this.”

“Why…?” is all Castiel manages to ask.

Bartholomew shrugs. “Have you _seen_ the amount of money your parents are offering? And also, honestly, I still have nightmares about you. I don’t think it’s fair you get to live here freely.”

“How did you know where to find me?” Castiel asks weakly.

But before Bartholomew has a chance to answer — with yet another foul smirk, for sure — someone’s fist punches him straight across his face.

Castiel gasps and takes a step back, watching as Bartholomew stumbles, hands covering his face, and Meg glaring up at him, her fist still raised threateningly.

“What the hell,” Bartholomew spits.

“That’s what I wanted to ask,” Meg drawls. “Hands off him, jackass, or I’ll break your ugly jaw.”

“You’re crazy,” Bartholomew snaps. “Have you _seen_ him? He’s a fucking monster! He doesn’t deserve—”

“Get out of here,” Meg says and takes a small step towards Bartholomew, who immediately backs away. “Now.”

“He’s lying to _all of you_ ,” Bartholomew yells. “You don’t even know who you’re dealing with—”

Benny appears right behind him, his strong hands falling down onto Bartholomew's shoulders and dragging him away. “Out,” Benny grunts.

Castiel watches, dumbfounded, as Benny throws Bartholomew out of the bar and slams the door behind him. He then waves in Castiel’s general direction, but doesn’t come closer. Castiel notices a few other people, mostly the other employees, looking in his direction with confused and curious faces. Dean is among them, and Castiel can see him put his beer down and stand up.

But then, Castiel looks at Meg — and Meg meets his gaze for a moment. She looks down at his scarf and she frowns and opens her mouth as if she wants to ask something.

Of course she does. Now, everyone will want to ask questions — because everyone will know, sooner or later, what happened.

They will know _what he is_.

And if Bartholomew uses the photo he took— 

Castiel doesn’t wait to hear Meg’s question. He turns and runs out of the bar without a word.


	9. CHAPTER 8

## chapter eight

Castiel is alone for half an hour before someone knocks on Dean’s door.

He doesn’t get up. He’s all wrapped up in his scarf and the blankets on the bed, face buried in the pillows and hidden away from the world. There’s nothing that can help him now. For all he knows, there’s someone outside the door who wants to ask him uncomfortable questions. Maybe it’s Bartholomew. Maybe it’s a reporter with a camera. Maybe it’s someone from the bar, half worried and half curious to see his real face.

It’s not.

“Cas?”

The soft voice calls out to him, but Castiel refuses to move. He should have guessed — it’s Dean’s apartment, after all, and he’s got the keys. If Dean decides to let someone in, someone less than friendly towards Castiel, he’s got every right to do so.

The bed dips then, and Dean’s hand lands on Castiel’s leg.

“Cas, come on,” Dean mutters.

It seems like he’s alone, after all. Still, Castiel doesn’t look at him, only jerks away, moving his leg out of Dean’s grasp.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Dean asks, and it’s not hostile, but he doesn’t sound quite so soft anymore. Castiel isn’t surprised — everyone gets tired of him, sooner or later. It’s been only a matter of time until Dean does too.

Dean touches him again — his arm, this time. Castiel moves away, sliding further onto the other side of the bed.

“Cas,” Dean says.

“Leave me alone,” Castiel snaps.

“You’re in _my_ bed,” Dean answers scathingly.

“Fine,” Castiel barks and sits up. He doesn’t look at Dean, just tightens the scarf over his face and stumbles out of the bed, nearly falling down onto his face when one of his knees catches on one end of the scarf. He hears Dean swear under his breath but doesn’t stop to look at him.

He’s not quick enough, though. Dean leaps across the bed after him and grips his elbow, almost painfully.

“What the hell, Cas! Where are you going?”

Castiel tries to tug his arm away, but Dean’s grip is too strong. He turns to glare at him, and is surprised to find Dean already looking up at him. There’s no real anger in his eyes, just annoyance and something else, something akin to pleading.

“Cas, come on,” Dean says again, voice quiet. His hand moves up and Castiel flinches back. “Shit. Sorry. I just… You know you don’t need this here, right?” he asks, gesturing towards the scarf.

Castiel can’t answer — he just shakes his head, and doesn’t know if he’s answering Dean’s question or trying to stop him.

Dean isn’t so easily swayed. His hand moves again, slower this time, and when Castiel doesn’t move away, he slowly pushes the scarf down, fingertips brushing Castiel’s cheek and jawline as they slide down. 

“Hey,” Dean murmurs. His other hand that has been gripping his elbow moves to catch his hand and pull him closer. “Look at me.”

Castiel shudders and keeps his eyes down, but allows Dean to drag him back to bed and sit him down on the mattress. He doesn’t protest when Dean touches his face again, when he tightens his grip on his fingers. 

“You’re not a monster,” Dean says quietly. “Don’t ever believe that.”

Castiel doesn’t answer.

“Cas. You know you’re not, right?” Dean’s thumb is brushing softly against Castiel’s jaw, his fingers curling into the short hair at the base of his neck. Castiel can feel Dean’s heat, so close to him, he can feel his own face flushing, fingers yearning to touch Dean and let himself be touched. Dean’s other hand moves and cups his face, too, tilting it so Castiel looks at him.

“He took my picture,” Castiel stutters. Now that he’s looking at Dean, he can’t look away. Dean’s eyes are soft and warm, just as his hands. His knee brushes against Castiel’s thigh.

“So what,” Dean murmurs. 

“So now he’s going to show it to everyone,” Castiel says desperately. “Everyone will know about me.”

“No one will care, Cas,” Dean says. “I swear.”

“You don’t know that,” Castiel says. “You can’t know that. Even if they don’t hate me, they’re going to have so many questions… And I can’t— I don’t want to deal with that.”

“Then you won’t.” Dean keeps looking at him steadily. “You’ll just ignore them until they get bored. People always get bored of things like that—”

Castiel moves back, and Dean’s hands fall down. “I can’t live like this, Dean. I didn’t come here to be the city’s main attraction!”

“I’m not saying you—”

“If the picture gets published,” Castiel says quietly, “I’m leaving. I won't be able to stay here.”

“But, Cas,” Dean says, shocked, “where will go? Back home?”

“Of course not. I don’t know yet. There’s always another city. A place where no one knows about me, hopefully.”

“You’ll be alone,” Dean says.

“I’m always alone.”

That’s when Dean moves again and wraps his arms around Castiel. Castiel lets out a surprised yelp, but then Dean pushes his face into his neck and pulls him closer. Castiel sags against him with a loud sigh and closes his eyes.

It only lasts a moment. Soon, Dean is moving away. He’s not looking Castiel in the eyes and he seems to be blushing, but his voice doesn’t waver when he says, “I could go with you.”

Castiel freezes. “What?”

“If you want,” Dean mumbles. “You wouldn’t be alone. We could take Pie and my bike and just… go somewhere else. Find a new place. Maybe somewhere south, where it’s warmer. Maybe—”

“Dean,” Castiel says, dumbfounded. “You’d do that for me?”

Dean looks at him and smiles. “Of course.”

“But… you’ve got a job here. An apartment. Friends.” Castiel swallows. “You’ve got Sam.”

“You too,” Dean says. “Job, friends, apartment. And yet, you’d move.”

“This is your apartment,” Castiel says.

Dean lifts a brow. “But you’re living here now, too.”

“But... “ Castiel finds it hard to find words that could express what he’s feeling. “Why?”

Dean shrugs. “I’ve been travelling for half of my life. I’m used to it.”

“I would never ask it of you,” Castiel says. “I’m not your responsibility. You don’t have to worry about me, I’m not a child, I can—”

Dean snorts. “You are, just a little.”

“What?” Castiel stares at him. “I’m perfectly capable of being on my own. I don’t need anyone to look after me.”

“Maybe not,” Dean says. “Maybe you’re okay on your own. But you don’t need to be.”

Castiel sighs. “I’ve been alone most of my life.” He thinks of his father, who rarely even talked to him back at home, probably too scared to look him in the eyes. Of his mother, who wanted so desperately for her son to be normal that she forgot he was her son, and not a broodmare. “I’ll be okay.”

“Cas,” Dean says, and it’s so quiet and unsure that Castiel needs to look at him to see he’s saying something. “I know you must’ve had enough of this in your life, what with your mom finding you dates and all, and this is probably the last thing on your mind right now, but… I’m here for you, okay? I just need you to know that. When I’m offering to go with you, I mean it. I swear.”

Castiel tilts his head at him. “I know. Dean, I know.”

Dean lets out a quiet laugh. “I don’t think you do, Cas.”

“What?” Castiel tries to catch Dean’s gaze, but he’s avoiding it. “Dean, you’ve been my greatest friend since I moved here. Believe me, I know—”

Dean lets out a groan. “Uh, crap. I’ve got the worst timing, don’t I? You’re— you’re worrying about your future here, and I’m just trying— Uh, forget it. Forget I even said anything.”

“Dean.” Castiel reaches out and takes Dean’s hand. “I’m confused. Please, tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong, Cas. I’m sorry I even brought it up.”

“Brought what up?” Castiel squeezes his hand, urging him to look at him. When Dean does, Castiel says, “Dean, tell me.”

“You don’t have to be alone,” Dean murmurs and grips his hand tighter.

“Because you want to go with me,” Castiel finishes, but it’s more of a question than anything else.

“Yeah,” Dean says. “And also because I like you.”

Castiel blinks, slowly. “Oh. I— I like you too, Dean. I told you, you’re my best—”

Dean moves forward then, and it’s quick but Castiel is quicker. For some reason he knows Dean doesn’t want to just _hug him_ this time — maybe it’s the fire that roars inside him, or the excited tremor of his hands — but he also knows this _can’t happen_.

So he pushes a hand into Dean’s chest and shoves him away.

“Cas, what—”

“Don’t,” Castiel whispers.

Dean stares at him, a dark red flush rising high in his face. “Cas—”

“You can’t,” Castiel says brokenly. “Not like this.”

Dean wanted to kiss him — he is sure of it just as he is sure that he would give _everything_ to be able to kiss Dean, too — and it’s making him both inexplicably happy and absolutely heartbroken.

Because Castiel is _cursed_. He’ll always be cursed if he doesn’t find someone _like him_ , someone of his own kind to accept him just as he is. And as much as it pains him to even think that, Dean isn’t like him. He doesn’t come from a family like Castiel’s, his ancestors weren’t aristocracy like Castiel’s, he isn’t… rich like Castiel.

The curse doesn’t work like that, he knows it.

Dean stares at him, and Castiel watches as his entire face changes — from shock, through hurt, to a closed off expression that makes Castiel’s heart ache.

“I knew it,” Dean says quietly. “That’s why I didn’t want to say anything.” He stands up from the bed, far away from Castiel’s reach. “Okay, now that we’ve got this out of the way, I guess I’ll just… leave you here. Alone. If that’s what you want.”

“Dean—” Castiel calls.

“Save it,” Dean mutters and turns to leave.

“It’s not your fault, Dean—”

“Yeah, I know,” Dean says bitterly. “Not like I had any say in this, right?”

“Yes, Dean, you couldn’t—”

“Shut up,” Dean says. “Just… shut up.”

Castiel doesn’t have a chance to say anything else before Dean leaves the apartment, the door slamming behind him.

He’s managed to ruin the last good thing he’s had in his life and he has no idea what to do now.

***

When the whole day passes and Dean doesn’t come back, Castiel starts to pack.

He doesn’t think there is anything else he could do now. Once the photograph gets out — and it _will_ , he is sure of this — everyone around him is going to go crazy, both because they will be scared and because they’ll want to see him. He will _not_ be their monkey in the zoo. He’s going to leave, go somewhere far away, somewhere the news about him won’t have reached yet. It may not be easy, but he’ll manage. Despite what Dean says, he’s not a child anymore.

He’s zipping up his backpack when he hears someone knock at the door. He stops for a moment, looking over his shoulder, expecting to see Dean walk in again — but then the knock sounds again.

And then he hears Meg’s voice.

“Cas? You there?”

Castiel stops dead. Meg? What does she want here?

And then it strikes him. Of course she’s here. Who wouldn’t want to see his face with their own two eyes?

“Cas,” Meg repeats and tugs at the door knob. Castiel can see it move, but the doors don’t budge, and Castiel sends a quiet thanks to Dean for locking the door. “Hey, I know you’re there.”

“What do you want?” Castiel calls out. He’s got nothing to worry about for now, not when the doors are closed. 

“Cas!” Pamela says cheerfully. “You okay there, sweetie?”

“I am, thank you,” Castiel says cooly. “You can leave now.”

“Hey, come on,” another voice calls. It’s Billie. “We’re just worried about you, kid.”

“Of course,” Castiel says. “And it has nothing to do with what you saw at the bar, right?”

It’s quiet for a moment behind the door, and Castiel smiles ruefully to himself. There’s no point in kidding himself — he knows very well why they’re here.

“Look,” Meg says, “I don’t know what I saw, okay? After you ran, the guy tried coming back inside but Benny and Gadreel didn’t let him. So we’re all just pretty confused about everything.”

“No,” Castiel says, “you just want to see _me_.”

“Yes, we do!” Rowena calls. Oh, another one is here. A few hours ago, Castiel would be more than thrilled to see all of his friends, but now? He’d rather come back to bed. “We want to see if you’re alright, dearie.”

“You want to see my face,” Castiel says. It comes out sad and quiet, even he can hear it. He’s sure they can, too, because they’re silent for yet another moment.

“We do,” Meg admits, then.

“I’m not a painting in a museum,” Castiel snaps. “I’m not here to be stared at like an animal in a cage.”

“It’s not that,” Pamela says.

“I’ve just never seen anything like that before,” Meg adds. 

“We’re just curious. And worried,” Rowena says.

“Too bad,” Castiel says. He turns away from the door and closes his eyes. His hands come up to cover his nose, but he ends up hiding his entire face in them. His next words come out muffled. “Just leave me alone, please.”

“Cas, you know we don’t care how you look—”

“Castiel?”

Castiel whips around on his heel and stares at the closed door. He’s almost certain he’s just heard his mother’s voice.

And then it happens again.

“Castiel, honey, are you there?”

“And who are you?” Meg asks.

“And who are _you_?” Rachel Novak spits out. 

“We’re Castiel’s friends,” Rowena says.

“So he _is_ in there! Castiel!” There’s a loud bang at the door. Castiel takes an involuntary step back. 

They found him so quickly. They must have already been in the city when Bartholomew shared the news with them. They must have asked around the bar, and someone must have told them where Dean lives— Oh, God, what if it was _Dean_ who told them—

“Hey, move away, lady, this isn’t your apartment—”

“He is _my son_ , and I am not going to move away until I talk to him—”

“I don’t want to talk to you,” Castiel says loudly. He moves until he’s standing right in front of the door, just to be sure everyone can hear him. “I don’t want to talk to any of you. I’d appreciate it if you left now.”

“Castiel!” his mother calls. She bangs at the door again. “Open the door, sweetheart. Let me see you.”

“Why?” Castiel spits. “Why would _you_ want to see me? You’ve looked at me enough in my life. Worrying. Trying to think of some way to change me. To make me look better.”

“Castiel,” Rachel admonishes. “Please, open this door and let us take you home.”

“Us?” Castiel laughs. “So dad is here, too? Hello, father. Quiet, as always. Don’t you want to see me? Don’t you want to make sure I’m okay?”

“Castiel, don’t talk to your father like this. We’ve been so worried! You have no idea what you’ve put us through. Once we get you home, we’re going to have a little talk about—”

“Oh, for God’s sake, I’m twenty-six,” Castiel snorts. “I’m earning my own money. You don’t get to decide when and where I go anymore.”

“That’s nonsense,” his mother says. “Open the door, Castiel.”

“No. Go away.”

“Don’t be a child, Castiel. Girl, do you have a key— Whose apartment is it, even—”

“I am not,” Castiel says loudly, “being a child. Why is everyone calling me a child? It’s not my fault I’ve been kept at home for most of the time. It’s not my fault I don’t know _real life_. And it’s not my fucking fault I look like this!”

“Castiel!” his mother gasps, scandalised.

“You know what?” Castiel wishes he could look his mother in the eyes without opening the door and letting her in. “I’m so sick of this. This, here, is the reason why I left in the first place! I’m sick of you coddling me, of you trying to ‘make my life easier’ for me! Of you trying to find ‘nice gentlemen’ or ‘pretty ladies’ for me to marry!”

“Wait, what?” Pamela asks.

“I don’t want you interfering in my life anymore,” Castiel says harshly. “I was fine here, on my own, without your constant nagging and your constant comments about my face. It’s my face, alright? You don’t get to decide what’s best for me. You don’t get to plan my life for me. And you definitely don’t get to call me ugly anymore.”

Someone gasps. He’s not sure who, and he doesn’t care. He realises his cheeks are wet as tears keep falling from his eyes, involuntary.

Right here, right now, he decides this is going to be the last time his parents will make him cry.

“Don’t be like that, Castiel, I never said—”

“You did,” Castiel says. His voice trembles, but he can’t help it. “Once or twice, yes, but you did.”

“I never meant—”

“It doesn’t matter.” Castiel closes his eyes as more tears come, determined not to break down completely. Not yet. “It doesn’t matter what you meant by that, mom, but you said it, and I never forgot about it.”

“Oh, Castiel—”

“I know—” He pauses, and needs to take a few deep breaths to be able to speak again. When he does, he nearly doesn’t recognise his voice. “I know you only wanted to make my life better,” he sobs. “You thought I was miserable with the way I looked, you thought I was unhappy… And then I was. You made me unhappy. You made me hate myself, hate the way I look.”

“Honey…”

“You should’ve realised,” Castiel calls tearfully, “I would’ve been perfectly fine with myself if only you loved me the way I was.”

“Castiel, oh honey, I do love you…”

“You want to change me,” Castiel calls out, hoarsely. “You want a different me. But guess want? I don’t.”

There’s a commotion outside the door, someone says something, and he thinks he can hear another voice calling his name questioningly — but he doesn’t care, not now.

“Mom,” Castiel says. “I don’t want a different me. I like myself the way I am!”

_BOOM._

It happens so quickly that for a moment, Castiel doesn’t even realise something happened at all. But then he notices he’s lying on the floor on the other side of the room, staring up at the ceiling, a dull ache in the back of his head. Something soft touches his cheek and he slowly reaches up to pet Pie just as he hears a key turning in the lock, followed by frantic footsteps and loud voices.

“...my goodness, is he alright? Oh, my son, what happened, are you alright, honey?”

“Cas!”

Castiel blinks, and the first thing he notices is the pair of green eyes. He blinks again and smiles, because it’s Dean, he knows it’s Dean, but then someone shrieks.

“OH MY GOD!”

Dean disappears from his sight, and then his mother is leaning over him, her eyes wide and frantic. 

“Castiel, oh, my baby! My son, look at you! You’re perfect!”

His mother touches his face. He tries to push her hands away, but she’s laughing and trying to hug him.

“Jesus, woman, let him breathe!” someone says. Castiel thinks it’s Meg. 

His mother vanishes from his sight, and then he’s being pulled up and seated down on the floor. Pie immediately hops into his arms and he smiles down at him before looking up at the group of people staring at him.

“What happened?” he asks. He feels a little dizzy. Maybe he’s got a concussion.

He notices Dean is crouching down right beside him. Castiel looks at him and smiles.

“Oh, Castiel,” his mother sobs. She sounds happy.

Before Castiel can ask what’s going on again, Dean hands him a phone.

“Open the camera,” he says quietly.

“What?” Castiel frowns.

“Just do it,” Dean says, “and look at yourself.”

Suspicious, Castiel does as he’s told.

And then he nearly drops the phone.

The pig snout is gone.

His mother keeps weeping happily, and he looks at her, shocked.

“What—”

“It’s gone,” Rachel says. “You broke the curse, honey.”

“Me?” 

It doesn’t seem his mother is able to explain it to him without crying, so Castiel looks around and meets Dean’s eyes. Dean, who is staying close and beaming at him.

“ _One of your own kind_ , Cas,” he says quietly. “You didn’t need anyone else, you just needed… you.”

Overwhelmed, Castiel looks back at his mother for some kind of confirmation. She nods frantically and surges forward to hug him.

“All you needed was to love yourself,” she whispers. “And you did. I’m so proud of you.”

Castiel hugs her back, carefully. He catches his father’s eyes above Rachel’s shoulder and, for the first time Castiel can remember, his father doesn’t look away. He smiles and nods at him, and then touches his shoulder and squeezes.

Castiel lets out a huge breath, hides his face in his mother’s neck, and closes his eyes.

***

Late in the evening, his parents leave for home with a promise that Castiel will come back when he’s ready. They’re not completely okay yet, and Castiel knows it’s going to take a while to make everything better between them, but at least there’s a real chance it can happen eventually.

Castiel’s friends leave soon after the spell is broken, only a little disappointed they didn’t get to see the real pig nose. Meg complains no one will believe her now, and then admits she hardly believes herself anymore. She must have dreamt it all.

Soon, Castiel is left alone with Dean. There’s a tense moment in which their eyes meet and they both look away, and Castiel is about to ask if Dean wants him gone, too, but then Dean offers to help him unpack. He accepts with a smile, and they work quietly, Pie hopping around them and nuzzling against their legs.

“Yeah, sweetie-pie,” Dean coos as he scratches behind the bunny’s ears. “Cas is staying. Don’t worry.”

For a second, Castiel wishes he had his scarf back so he could hide his grin behind it — but then Dean catches his eyes and smiles back just as happily.

Maybe it’s better without it.

“You wanna use the bathroom first?” Dean asks.

It’s late, and they’re both going back to work tomorrow, so Castiel nods, grabs his things, and goes to take a shower. He spends a few long minutes simply staring at himself in the mirror, tracing fingertips over his nose — his small, ordinary, human nose — and realises it will take him a while to get completely used to it.

He comes out of the bathroom just when Dean is finishing placing pillows on the couch. He stops dead in his tracks and clutches his clothes to his chest.

Dean meets his eyes reluctantly. “I was thinking maybe you could…” 

He doesn’t finish the thought.

“Of course,” Castiel says, hoping his face doesn’t show how disappointed he is.

“Just until we figure everything out,” Dean says awkwardly. “I just don’t want to—”

Castiel can’t bear to hear him say it. “I understand, Dean. Don’t worry.”

Dean breathes out, relieved. “Okay. Good. Uh, okay. Goodnight, then.” 

He vanishes into the bathroom. Castiel sighs quietly and plops down onto the couch.

He knows it’s his own fault. He was the one to push Dean away. Apparently, the fact that the curse was broken doesn’t change anything. And it’s not like he assumed it would, but he just wishes they could at least… try and talk about it.

He waits, but Dean takes his time in the bathroom. Castiel gives up and lies down on the couch, snuggling Pie against his chest as he hops up next to him. He closes his eyes, touches his nose one last time, and tries to fall asleep.

He’s still awake when Dean comes out of the bathroom and goes to bed. The light goes out and Castiel can hear Dean climbing under the covers, but he doesn’t stir.

“Pie?” Dean calls in a loud whisper.

The bunny immediately leaps out of Castiel’s arms and leaves him alone on the couch to join Dean. Castiel hears Dean murmur sweet nothings to his pet, and then all is quiet again.

He lies wide awake for what feels like hours. There’s excitement still buzzing in his blood, a strange energy that makes him want to keep touching his nose to check whether it’s real. For the first time, he’s bothered by the sound of cars passing outside on the street, people talking, footsteps, sounds of night life. He doesn’t want to check the time, afraid he’s been awake for hours and soon he’s going to have to get up for work.

And then, another sound catches his attention. 

Dean is turning in his bed, and it sounds as if he’s trying to reshape his pillow with his fist and find a more comfortable position, but it doesn’t seem to work because he does it again. He’s sighing angrily and cursing beneath his breath. Soon, Pie comes hopping across the room to go sleep in his own little bed.

Castiel waits for Dean to lie down again, and then he stands up quietly.

The floor creaks when he’s a few feet away from the bed. Dean turns around and lifts his head to look at him.

“Cas?” he asks hoarsely. Castiel stops, and watches as Dean sits up and rubs at his eyes. “What’s up, buddy?”

Castiel swallows nervously. “I don’t know.”

Dean stares at him. Castiel can see him quite clearly, even though it’s dark in the apartment. The lights from the streets are enough to make Dean’s face visible.

“You can’t sleep?” Dean asks finally.

Castiel nods.

“Yeah,” Dean murmurs and lets out a heavy breath. “Me neither. That was quite a day, wasn’t it?”

“Mhmm,” Castiel hums noncommittally. Carefully, he moves forward and sits down on the edge of the bed, but Dean doesn’t comment. He just looks at him and smiles sadly.

“Sorry you have to sleep on the couch,” he mutters.

Castiel shrugs. “It’s okay. I wouldn't want to make you uncomfortable.”

Dean frowns. “Me? I didn’t want to make _you_ uncomfortable.”

“Why would I be uncomfortable?” Castiel asks. “It was me who was rude. I pushed you away. I thought you were angry with me.”

“What?” Dean lets out a short laugh. “I’m not angry with you. I thought you were angry with me.”

Castiel meets Dean’s eyes, and realises he’s telling the truth. But why would Castiel be angry with Dean? He told him it wasn’t his fault, and Dean said he understood. Castiel didn’t want to hurt Dean’s feelings, but he had really thought there was no way Dean could help him.

And he was right, but it still doesn’t make him feel any better.

“Look,” Dean says with a quiet sigh. “I’m sorry I was a jackass. I shouldn’t have thrown myself at you when I didn’t know if you were interested. Clearly, you weren’t. I’m sorry I read the signs wrong. My bad.”

“Your bad?” Castiel repeats. He moves and slowly climbs up the bed, until he’s face to face with Dean, their knees touching. “Dean, I’m not good at reading signs, but I think you wanted to kiss me,” he says bluntly.

Dean blinks at him. Then he nods, very slowly.

Castiel lets out a heavy breath. “It’s me who should be apologising, Dean. I just didn’t want you to kiss me while I looked like that.”

“I didn’t mind,” Dean says. “I wouldn’t have minded it at all, Cas.”

Castiel smiles ruefully. “I was selfish. I believed I needed to be with someone like me, in order to break the curse.”

“Someone like you,” Dean repeats. “Someone rich?”

Castiel nods, trying not to notice the hurt in Dean’s eyes. It’s still there, though, and it pains him. “Yes. Someone from a family like mine. I told you about the curse. My parents made me believe in it, and I just… I’m so sorry, Dean. You have no idea how much I wished it could be you.”

Dean stares at him. “You did?”

“Of course.” Castiel moves closer, and when Dean doesn’t react, he slowly lifts his hand and touches Dean’s face. “I wished I could be normal and not worry about the status of people I like. I wished you could have been one of the people chosen by my mom, someone tall and handsome and noble.”

Dean makes a face. “You don’t think I’m handsome?”

Castiel smiles. “That was one of the first things I thought about you,” he says. “I thought ‘Oh, mom would like him. So tall and handsome.’”

“I thought you, of all people, would be above judging people by their appearance,” Dean jokes.

“I’m not perfect, Dean,” Castiel says. “I never was.”

“I don’t know about that,” Dean murmurs.

Castiel cups Dean's face with both of his hands. “I’m sorry I pushed you,” he whispers.

“It’s fine,” Dean says.

“I never wanted to hurt you.”

“I wasn’t hurt,” Dean scoffs. “Okay, maybe a little. But hey, serves me right. You were distressed, I shouldn’t’ve tried—”

“I wasn’t distressed.”

“Dude, you were wallowing around in bed, in the middle of the day, snuggling with my pet rabbit.” Dean laughs, and his eyes crinkle at the corners. “You looked distressed.”

“Well, I wasn’t,” Castiel says.

“You were so dramatic,” Dean jokes. “My life is ruined. I have no friends. I need to—”

“Dean,” Castiel says threateningly.

“Cas,” Dean answers with a wide smile.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” Castiel states.

Dean grins. “What the fuck are you waiting for—”

Castiel surges forward and catches Dean’s lips with his own. 

For years, he has thought his first kiss would be able to break the curse. He worried about kissing someone with his pig nose, anxious it would get in the way, terrified no one would want to come close to him with it on his face. There were days he didn’t believe it would actually happen one day.

And now he is kissing Dean, and everything is just as it should be when you’re kissing your true love.

Dean’s lips are warm and soft as they move against his, Dean’s breath minty, Dean’s fingers gentle where they brush against his face and curl into his hair. Castiel sighs happily, and Dean takes that opportunity to slide his tongue inside Castiel’s mouth. 

“Oh,” Castiel moans, surprised. He moves forward and climbs into Dean’s lap, both arms around his neck. Dean moves his hands to his waist and pulls him closer, lips and tongue still moving eagerly.

When they break apart for air, Castiel rests his forehead against Dean’s and pants. Dean’s hand slides shyly up Castiel’s waist, beneath the thin t-shirt he’s wearing, but even though Castiel desperately wants it to move further, it stops there. 

“Cas,” Dean breathes against his ear and drops a tiny kiss on his jaw. “Was that your first kiss?”

Castiel freezes. “Was it that bad?” he asks, terrified.

Dean hides his face in Castiel’s neck and laughs. “No,” he hums happily. “It was perfect.”

“Yes,” Castiel murmurs, relaxing again. “Yes, it was.”

“I’m glad, then,” Dean says and places another kiss on Castiel’s neck. “We should go to sleep.”

“Can we kiss one more time,” Castiel mutters, already moving his head and trying to reach Dean’s lips.

Dean meets him halfway, and he’s smiling so wide it’s barely possible to kiss for a moment. Castiel pulls at his hair and then they’re kissing again, Dean’s hands gripping Castiel’s hips, their breaths and tongues mingling. It’s frantic for a moment, and then Dean tightens his fingers on Castiel’s hips, catches his chin with another hand, and the kiss slows down. Castiel melts against Dean and lets himself be kissed, lets Dean lower him down onto the mattress, kiss a trail down his neck, and tuck him against Dean’s side. 

“Sleep now,” Dean murmurs as he nuzzles into Castiel’s neck. “Kissing tomorrow.”

Castiel smiles, hides his face in Dean’s chest, and closes his eyes.

“Tomorrow,” he murmurs, and falls asleep.

***

Castiel is woken up by rain and the feel of Dean’s hand brushing against his skin.

He takes his time turning to face Dean, aware of the situation below his waist and not sure how Dean will react to it. He tries to lie still, but Dean must figure him out quickly, because soon he’s nuzzling into Castiel’s neck, his breath soft and teasing.

“Mornin’, babe,” he hums against his skin.

Castiel lets out a surprised sigh and slowly turns in Dean’s arms. Dean meets his eyes and his entire face goes slightly pink.

“It’s— it’s a reference,” he stammers. He bites his lips, sheepish, but doesn’t look away. “There was this movie about a cute pig that could—”

“I don’t mind,” Castiel murmurs, moves closer, and places a tiny kiss on Dean’s cheek. “I like it.”

Dean’s hands grip him by the hips and keep him in place. “Yeah?”

“Yes,” Castiel whispers. “And good morning to you too, Dean.”

Dean smiles. “Sleep well?”

“I did,” Castiel says. “Did you?”

“Yeah.” Castiel feels Dean’s thumb brushing lazy circles on the skin beneath Castiel’s t-shirt, and he smiles and moves closer. “You know what? I kinda miss it.”

Castiel looks at him, confused. “Miss what?”

Dean’s hand disappears from his hip, but Castiel doesn’t have a chance to mourn its absence because then Dean pokes the tip of Castiel’s nose. Castiel stares at him.

“You— you do?” He shakes his head. “But why?”

“Don’t you?” Dean murmurs. “You spent so much time with it. And I know you didn’t _hate_ it.”

Castiel can feel himself smile, and there’s no chance of hiding it from Dean now. Dean sees it and grins back.

“No, I didn’t hate it. You look at something for twenty-six years and you get used to it. I just thought… maybe you would be… relieved.”

Dean blinks and doesn’t say anything.

“To see it gone?” Castiel adds. “To know I’m not cursed anymore?” 

“Relieved?” Dean repeats, perplexed. “Jesus, Cas. I just told you I miss it. How can you think I hated it?”

Castiel lets out a small laugh. “Yes, but—”

“It was a part of you,” Dean says. “I liked it just as much as I liked you. I fell for it just as I fell for you.”

“Dean,” Castiel gasps.

“Don’t act so surprised,” Dean laughs softly and leans closer, his lips finding Castiel’s lips, _finally_. “You know how I feel.”

“You like me,” Castiel murmurs happily. 

“Very much,” Dean says and then they’re kissing, slow and tender and quiet. Dean’s hands grip Castiel’s hips again and Castiel sighs into Dean’s mouth, delighted to be so close to him again.

“I’m guessing you like me too,” Dean breathes when they pull away.

“Yes,” Castiel confirms. He tries to kiss Dean again, but Dean only lets him have a few chaste kisses before moving away with a laugh. “Dean?”

“Look, I’m more than happy to have you here, Cas,” Dean says with a smile, catching his eyes and not looking away. “I’m freaking thrilled. Quite… literally.”

Castiel frowns. “Dean, I’m happy too. More than happy. Delighted. _Exhilarated_.”

“Yeah, Cas, but I mean—”

“Dean.” In one quick movement, Castiel moves and presses himself against Dean’s body. Dean lets out a loud gasp and his eyes widen. “I know what you mean.”

Castiel can feel now, without a doubt, Dean’s hardness pressing enthusiastically into his thigh. He allows his hips to move gently, making sure Dean can feel his, as well. 

“Cas,” Dean murmurs, and his fingers tighten on Castiel’s skin. “Are you sure?”

“I like waking up next to you,” Castiel says. He allows his voice to drop lower than usual, and is rewarded by Dean’s soft moan and the way his pupils dilate. “But I’m tired of dealing with the consequences by myself.”

“Cas, are you—”

“Yes, I am,” Castiel whispers, and leans to kiss Dean on the lips again.

Dean responds enthusiastically, his kisses still mostly slow and careful, yet with a hint of the same hunger Castiel can feel low in his stomach. When Dean presses against him harder, Castiel lets him, falling into the mattress and dragging Dean with him.

Dean breaks away again. “Cas. Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

Castiel looks up at him. “I might have been a recluse for most of my life, but I know what sex is, Dean. Please don’t ask stupid questions.”

Dean’s face reddens, but he huffs out a laugh. He’s leaning above Castiel now, their hips pressed together but still not moving. Dean reaches out a hand and brushes Castiel’s hair out of his eyes.

“I just don’t want you regretting it later,” he murmurs quietly.

“Will _you_?” Castiel asks. “Regret it?”

Dean’s eyes are dark when he leans down and kisses him. “Of course not,” he says.

“Then I won’t, either,” Castiel whispers into his mouth, lets his eyes slide shut, and rolls his hips.

Dean lets out a pleased sigh and responds to Castiel’s movement with one of his own, his body heavy and warm where it presses Castiel into the mattress and rubs against him. They keep kissing, Dean’s fingers tangled in Castiel’s hair, their mouths hungry and sensuous, bodies moving together, slow and frantic and tender at the same time. Castiel tilts his head back, mouth falling open as his hands scramble to grip Dean’s back and pull him closer; the friction between their hips is making him dizzy with want, his entire body on fire, the need to touch and be touched almost too overwhelming. Dean kisses his lips and his jaw and his neck, breathes loudly against his ear, grinds into him, the thin fabric of their clothes doing nothing to hide their arousal. 

“Cas,” Dean whispers hotly. “Cas, I need you.”

Castiel pulls him closer and opens his eyes to look at him, his broad shoulders and bright green eyes right above him, arms bracing him, keeping him safe and hidden from the world.

“I’m here,” Castiel murmurs, reaching up to touch Dean’s face.

“Are you gonna leave?” Dean asks, voice low. They’ve stopped moving, eyes locked onto each other, both breathing heavily. “Are you gonna leave New York?”

“Someday, maybe,” Castiel says. “But not now. Not anytime soon.”

“Yeah?” Dean turns his head and his lips brush against Castiel’s palm, still pressed against his cheek. He kisses his hand gently and looks back at Castiel with a small smile. “You’re gonna stay for now?”

“Yes,” Castiel whispers.

“Here?” Dean asks. “With me?”

Castiel licks his lips. “If you want.”

“Of course I want, you dumbass,” Dean says and surges down to kiss him again. 

“Good,” Castiel hums. “I’m very happy here.”

Dean takes him into his arms while they kiss and move against each other, and Castiel melts into his embrace happily. It doesn’t take long for Castiel to feel the overwhelming heat that starts from the place where Dean is still moving against him and spreads all over his body, making him tremble and squeeze his eyes and dig his fingers into Dean’s shoulder.

Soon enough, Dean follows him and falls heavily against him, nose pressing into Castiel’s neck and his breath quick and hot. Castiel curls into him with a pleased sigh and lets himself drift off for a moment. When he comes to again and opens his eyes, Dean is smiling at him and carding his fingers through Castiel’s hair.

“Morning again,” he hums.

Castiel smiles back. “Hello, Dean.”

“So I’m thinking,” Dean murmurs. “We should definitely call in sick today and just stay in bed. What do you say?”

Castiel stares at him. “But I want to go to work,” he says.

Dean’s face falls. “Oh. Okay. I thought that maybe—”

“I’ll be here when you get back,” Castiel assures. “And we’ll have the entire night to ourselves, won’t we?”

Dean blinks, and then huffs out a laugh. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess you’re right, babe.”

“On second thought,” Castiel says and touches his own nose, “maybe let’s just stick to _Cas_.”


	10. EPILOGUE

## epilogue

“Should’ve bought one more slice,” Dean says, sprinkling the table in front of him with crumbles when he talks. “We could’ve shared it.”

Castiel shakes his head with a smile. “I’ve had enough, Dean.”

“Aw, okay,” Dean wiggles his eyebrows. “I’d eat it myself.”

“Of course.”

“You don’t get to judge me, babe. It’s pie.”

“I know, Dean.”

“You do not say ‘no’ to pie.”

“I know,” Castiel repeats, “he _is_ quite charming.”

Dean sends him a dirty look. “So I’ve noticed. He’s got you wrapped around his finger, doesn’t he? You know, if you keep feeding him so often, he’s not gonna be able to hop anymore soon.”

“Okay,” Castiel says with a nod. “Here, you can finish my slice.”

Dean grins at him, pulls Castiel’s plate towards himself, and stuffs his mouth with the entire big chunk that’s left. Castiel laughs fondly and watches him struggle with it for a moment.

Finally, Dean swallows everything and smacks his lips with a pleased sigh. “What time is it?”

Castiel glances at the clock hanging on the wall on the other side of the breakroom. “We’ve got five more minutes.”

“Awesome,” Dean says and smiles. “C’mere.”

Castiel doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to Dean kissing him — everytime it happens, no matter if it’s been days or weeks or months since their first kiss — Castiel’s skin tingles pleasantly, head swimming, warmth spreading all over his body. This time is no different, and when Castiel licks eagerly into Dean’s mouth and lets himself be snuggled closer, he can distinctly taste the buttery crust of the pie Dean’s just finished eating. Dean smells like cold winter wind and cinnamon and Castiel wishes he could just melt against him and forget about the world around them.

Unfortunately, they’re both on lunch break and there’s still a couple of hours at work before they can return home and go to bed.

Ten minutes later, Dean is kissing Castiel against the wall of the backroom when Dean’s phone vibrates in his pocket.

“Shit,” Dean mutters, pulling away. “Sorry. I really have to go now.”

Castiel drags Dean in by the shirt and presses one last kiss against his lips. “Four more hours.”

“Yeah,” Dean mumbles and nuzzles against his cheek. “We still on for pizza tonight?”

“Yes,” Castiel says. He falls back against the wall and looks at Dean with a smile. “If you want, I can stop by the bakery and buy the rest of that pie.”

“Christ, you’re perfect,” Dean gasps and grins at him. “Get some of that pecan one as well, will you?”

“Mhmm.” Castiel nods, and he doesn’t have enough self-restraint to stop himself from leaning forward and catching Dean’s lips with yet another kiss. Apparently, neither does Dean, though, and soon Castiel is being pinned against the wall, Dean’s hands sneaking into Castiel’s hair and Dean’s clever tongue in Castiel’s mouth—

“Novak! Stop making out and get back to work!” 

Hearing Billie’s loud voice from behind the closed door, they both pull away, giggling. Dean’s hand slides out from Castiel’s hair and he brushes his thumb against Castiel’s cheek with fondness.

“See you at home, Cas,” he whispers, drops a kiss to Castiel’s nose, and leaves the room.

When Castiel gets back to the front of the bar, it’s with a blush, tingling lips, and a big smile on his face. Rowena winks at him from where she’s pouring a beer for a customer and Meg rolls her eyes and pushes a tray of dirty glasses at him. 

“That’s ten minutes overtime, Casanova,” she says. Castiel nods and gets to work. He doesn’t mind — and he knows his coworkers don’t really mind, either. And it’s not like it happens everyday, but Dean’s been working night shifts for the last week and Castiel has really, _really_ missed him. He’s quite sure the feeling is mutual.

He’s deep in his thoughts, up to his elbows in the foam as he washes the dirty beer glasses, when a curious voice attracts his attention. When he looks up, he notices a flustered-looking woman with a young girl in her arms. Both of them are looking straight at him, but while the mother looks away guiltily, the child just continues gaping.

“Um. Hello?” Castiel asks, uncertain.

“I’m so sorry,” the woman mumbles awkwardly. “Come on, Hailey, let’s not bother the nice man,” she says to her daughter in a hushed voice.

“But moooom, I wanna see it!” the girl squawks. She keeps staring at Castiel with eyes big and Castiel feels an overwhelming urge to cover his face. He doesn't have his scarf anymore, though, and the dishtowel is definitely too wet now. 

“I said no, Hailey. Come on, we’re leaving.”

“Can I help you?” Castiel asks.

The mother sends him a horrified look. “I’m so sorry,” she repeats. “For bothering you.”

“It’s alright,” he says. “Is there something you needed?” The bar gets a fair share of different guests, but children this young are a rarity. 

The woman flushes. “Oh. It’s just. There’s been this article.”

Castiel realises what she’s talking about even before she can continue. He breathes in, more surprised than anything else, and notices a fluffy toy in the girl’s arms. A big, round, pink fluffy pig.

It’s been awhile since he’s met one of those. The article and Bartholomew’s picture attracted a few people very interested in seeing him with their own two eyes, but fortunately no one got too serious about it. Castiel was happy to answer some of their questions but, in the end, there wasn’t anything he could really do. 

“—I told Hailey a _million_ times, but I’m sure you know how kids are — and those are just her favourites, I mean she just _adores_ them — if you could see her room—”

“I wanna see it,” Hailey repeats, stares at Castiel, and then frowns. “Where is it?”

“She loved that picture of yours, the one in the newspaper a few weeks back,” the woman whispers. “Got so excited. I really tried to make her forget but—”

“It’s alright,” Castiel says and smiles regretfully. “I’m afraid you’re too late, though.”

The woman’s face stays carefully blank, but the girl’s mouth turns into a pout. “Show me the nose!” she calls.

Castiel chuckles and taps the side of his nose. “Here it is, my friend. I’m very sorry this is not what you’ve been expecting.”

“What happened?” the mother asks, seemingly unable to hide her curiosity. “What does it mean?”

Castiel shrugs. “It means I’m free,” he says, and smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!   
> Please remember to check out [the art masterpost](http://diminuel.tumblr.com/post/165364168730/artwork-for-the-greatest-love-of-all-by-teacass) and give it lots of love ♥


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